Twin Flames - Dark Waters
by Braxin
Summary: An AU story which diverges from the televised story line at season 2's/25th episode, named Bounty. Unlike the light T&T romance I usually write, this story is full of angst, so hardcore T&Ters should avoid this one.
1. Chapter 1

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 **Dedicated to Rishooter, co-author of this story, the plot of which we arrived at only after bouncing ideas off each other at great length.**

 **Dedicated to MostDismalFeldsparkle, a generous contributor who helped me iron out some rough spots in the plot, and bailed me out with some elegant solutions when I stumbled in the process of said ironing. _  
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 **— Chapter 01 —**

* * *

A week had just passed since the Enterprise's encounter with Skalaar, the Tellarite bounty hunter who had kidnapped Captain Archer in service to the Klingons, and T'Pol was back in Sick Bay now at Phlox's insistence, for a last physical after her regrettable encounter with an unusual microbe which had caused the Vulcan to enter an artificially induced pon'farr, a Vulcan mating cycle.

"Ah…" said Doctor Phlox, fumbling a bit with his handheld scanner. "Yes. Ah… excuse me."

Phlox was still a bit nervous around T'Pol since she'd offered herself to him sexually during her pon'farr, the Vulcan's offer preceded by a lazy catlike stretch, just before she'd said in a voice just shy of a purr: "You have no idea what you are denying yourself, Doctor."

Well, that much was true, reckoned Phlox, and frankly it was a topic he'd considered at length since the day he'd turned down T'Pol's sexual advances out of a surfeit of medical ethics. Still, he'd done the right thing in curing the Vulcan using a more conventional treatment… doing the right thing was not always easy.

"Well, all seems to be in order, SubCommander," said Phlox, "though my knowledge in the particulars of your condition is limited due your people's illogical reticence to discuss a normal biological fact that—"

"So I am cleared to return to duty?" said T'Pol, purposely cutting off the doctor's polite rant.

"Yes," said Phlox, "but since this was your first pon'farr, and an artificially induced cycle at that, we should monitor you for another week or two, just to make certain that all is well with you, SubCommander."

"Very well, Doctor," said T'Pol, sliding off the examination bed. "Thank you."

Phlox nodded and gave T'Pol a pleasant smile, then turned his back on her and began humming even before she cleared the Sick Bay, for he had to feed his menagerie of critters now, a task he actually enjoyed.

T'Pol went about her day then and though her first full day back on duty was a slow one, it was still preferable to lounging around her quarters round the clock, however pleasurable that had been the first three days. In fact, all things considered, life would be just peachy for the Vulcan now, save for one troubling fact: the pon'farr cycle, though aborted by Phlox's medicinal antics, had left behind a still measurable degree of physical discomfort, in the form of a constant low-grade level of physical arousal, punctuated irregularly by more intense flashes of sexual desire. Perhaps she should have mentioned this fact to Phlox, but T'Pol was embarrassed enough over the entire episode, illogical as that embarrassment might be, and T'Pol was confident that she could maintain control through meditation.

"Yes, best to forget it all and put this entire episode behind me now through discipline," thought T'Pol, and the Vulcan applied herself with a will to do just that by throwing herself into her work, and then working extra hours in Engineering, where her analytical skills came in handy to optimize the workings of the warp engines.

In any case, she truly enjoyed… that is to say, she felt properly motivated to work in Engineering, given the presence of the department's head, Commander Tucker, her closest colleague on the ship. Though T'Pol spent more time with Archer in the course of her duties, she spent the majority of her off-duty hours with Commander Tucker, when factoring in meal times, late night snacks, gym time, off-duty technical discussions, and all the other various mental maneuvers each used in order to justify spending time with the other during the course of each day, while maintaining the fiction that it was all just business.

T'Pol was honest enough with herself to admit that she felt some level of physical attraction to Commander Tucker, and perhaps it was unwise to spend time here in Engineering now, what with the last lingering effects of the pon'farr still affecting her to some degree, yet T'Pol was quite confident that she could control these effects, with an extra twenty minutes of meditation each night thrown in to make certain of her control. And meditate she did during the course of that week, all in order to maintain control, though truth be told, T'Pol did not feel herself making much headway in the process of taming her symptoms. Still, logic and discipline were the foundation of the Vulcan soul since Surak's coming, so T'Pol simply increased her meditation, and reasoned, quite logically, that the symptoms would decrease in time.

* * *

The following week, the second week since the onset of her artificial pon'farr cycle, caused some trepidation in T'Pol for her physical symptoms of sexual arousal only increased, rather than tapering down as she'd anticipated. She'd responded by ramping up her meditation to a solid hour daily, and that seemed to do the trick and stabilize her for now, though it did not abate her symptoms. All that would come in good time.

In any case, T'Pol was kept busy in Engineering, for Commander Tucker was to leave the Enterprise shortly for a month long exchange of personnel proposed by the High Command, who for some unknown reason was eager to expand and accelerate the process of integrating Vulcan officers into StarFleet as observers and advisers along the trail which T'Pol had blazed, while at the same time inviting StarFleet officers to visit Vulcan schools, military academies, shipyards and the ships of the Vulcan Navy. No one knew the Vulcan motives behind it all, save certainly StarFleet's Admiralty Commission, and though T'Pol was definitely not in that circle, she could not help but wonder at this abrupt change of policy on the High Command's part. And now, Commander Tucker was due to rotate out for a month long assignment under the auspices of the High Command, doing Human God knows what.

No matter, that month would go by quickly enough, and in the meantime T'Pol would aid Lt. Kelby in Engineering as needed in order to keep the Enterprise running in top notch condition. That meant a welcome and safe distraction from the sexual impulses still left her in the wake of her first pon'farr, for T'Pol felt zero sexual attraction to Kelby, even now. Zero attraction.

Still, it was with a sense of regret that T'Pol accompanied Commander Tucker as the man walked towards the Access Hatch of the Enterprise, where a Vulcan shuttle waited, docked with the Enterprise, to take Commander Tucker, as well Ensign Ekers from Tactical and Ensign Sallot from Medical, to the diplomatic transport which would speed them to Vulcan, and their new, month long assignments under the auspices of the High Command.

"You take care of my engines, T'Pol," said Trip, a warm smile on his face. "I know they're Kelby's responsibility, but I'll feel better knowing that you're looking in on him from time to time. The boy tries hard, but he needs the steady hand of a mature, seasoned, matronly, older, nay, senior, long in the tooth fem—"

"Enough!" said T'Pol, perversely pleased that Commander Tucker had chosen to get a few jabs in, even at the last moment, rather than tamely leaving her behind... that is, tamely leaving the Enterprise behind. "Rest easy, Commander Tucker. I will discreetly monitor Kelby on your behalf."

"Good," said Trip, and smiled again in response to T'Pol's understated nod, then gave her a half-assed ta'al, and boarded the Vulcan shuttle in order to depart the Enterprise.


	2. Chapter 2

— **Chapter 02 —**

* * *

Four days after boarding the V'orkat, the diplomatic vessel sent to ferry Tucker, Ekers and Sallot to Vulcan, the ship assumed a stationary orbit round that planet and shortly afterward the V'orkat's shuttle landed on the roof of Earth's Embassy to Vulcan in order to disembark her passengers, and the Humans were instructed to report to Admiral Ryan's office within the Embassy. Twenty minutes later, the three men were seated in Ryan's office, spread out between two couches on opposite sides of a coffee table made of green Vulcan quartz and wrought iron. Ryan's assistant brought them all iced coffees, and then Ryan began the informal meeting without a preamble.

"Ensign Sallot," said Ryan, sliding a PADD(Personal Access Data Device), towards Sallot, "you're on Vulcan for a four month assignment, during which you're to learn, hands on, the basics of the Vulcan physiology, sufficiently so to render effective medical aid to Vulcans in distress. You'll be based in a nearby hospital, working in that hospital's trauma ward, along with a few dozen other assorted medical personnel from Earth. You will excel this assignment, and then you'll return to the Enterprise where your knowledge may one day come in handy, and prove to be an asset to Doctor Phlox."

"Yes, sir," said Sallot.

"Ensign Ekers," said Ryan, sliding another PADD to that officer, "you're here to be trained for the next two months in some specialized equipment which will soon be added to our fleet, courtesy the Vulcans. Once you've completed that program, you'll be sent back to Earth, and assume a position aboard the soon to be completed Columbia, the Enterprise's sister ship. T'Pol can already perform those functions for the Enterprise."

"Yes, sir," said Ekers.

Ryan nodded at Ekers and Sallot both, and said, "Now, both of you, see my assistant. She'll have a driver take you to your hotel rooms. You have until tomorrow morning to screw around, so make the most of it."

Both ensigns stood and saluted, then departed the room, leaving admiral and commander behind, and the two looked at each other, as Trip finished off his coffee.

"Another coffee, Commander?" said Ryan.

"No, thank you, sir," said Trip. "I need to sleep tonight."

"How about something stronger?" said Ryan.

"What are my options, sir?"

"I have bourbon, a lemon infused vodka, scotch, Andorian ale and sipping quality rum," said Ryan.

"I'll take Andorian ale, sir."

Ryan stood and crossed his spacious office, returning a bit later with two tumblers, a chilled bottle of Andorian Ale, and a bottle of bourbon.

"Much obliged, sir," said Trip, then poured for them both.

Ryan grunted his thanks and then each man emptied his glass. Ryan refilled their glasses and then slid a PADD towards Trip.

"You'll be posted on Vulcan, but taking a daily shuttle to one of the Vulcan Navy's largest military shipyards," said Ryan. "All the Vulcan workers do that. You'll have full access to that facility."

Trip whistled at that, and said, "What's all this about, sir? The Vulcans have been quite reticent to share tech with us until quite recently. Why such a sudden turnabout?"

"Need to know, Commander," said Ryan. "Get familiar with Vulcan building techniques, materials and processes and see where and how they might integrate with our own methods, and vice versa."

"All right, sir," said Trip, thinking furiously and grasping what Ryan apparently couldn't address openly, as each domino fell in place one after the other.

War was coming, thus the sense of urgency which had driven the High Command to share tech with Humans. Vulcan and Earth were now committed to sharing technology, pooling their resources and personnel in order to face this threat, and they planned to share ship building sites, and also repair war damaged ships at each other's facilities.

"How long do we have before open hostilities?" said Trip.

Ryan grinned at that.

"Unless I'm completely off base, sir," said Trip, taking another sip of his ale, and watching Ryan shrewdly.

"I'd heard you were smart as a whip, son," said Ryan, "but I can neither confirm, nor deny your suspicions."

"Sure, Admiral," said Trip, "I understand. But, just speculating wildly here, the Vulcans must be quite rattled in order to suddenly be so open with us. I know they've skirmished with the Klingons before, and that didn't seem to rattle them any, but I've heard that they've been spooked ever since the Enterprise ran into that minefield and met that cloaked ship, so I'm guess—"

"Where did you hear that?" said Ryan, a calculating look on his face.

"Associate who works for StarFleet, sir," said Trip. "Said that the Vulcans viewed our video logs, and just about shit themselves at the sight of those winged ships which decloaked near the Enterprise. In any case, it seemed a harmless enough a piece of information to share then, and it made me think, just now..."

"And what's this associate's name?" said Ryan.

"Sorry, sir," said Trip. "He's a friend. If it means I go to the Brig, I go to the Brig."

Trip downed the contents of his glass, Ryan did the same, then Trip refilled their glasses.

"I can't afford to have one of StarFleet's best engineers in the Brig at this particular time," said Ryan, "but keep your mouth shut about your suspicions, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," said Trip. "What's the Enterprise up to, while I'm occupied on this assignment?"

"They're heading for Denobula," said Ryan, "in order to upgrade some of the weapons systems."

"I should be there for that, sir," said Trip. "The demands which weapon systems place on the power systems of the Enterprise should be monitored by the ship's Chief Engineer."

"Relax," said Ryan. "Kelby and your Tactical officer will see that the upgrades are done properly, and you can verify that fact when you return to the ship. Until then, you stay focused on this task, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," said Ryan. "Now finish up your drink, and we'll hit the dining room here. They make a mean Surf & Turf."

"Really?" said Trip.

"Oh, yeah," said Ryan. "Porterhouse steaks imported from Earth and seared to perfection, and this tasty Vulcan crab that breeds in the Voroth Sea. Vulcans won't touch it, being vegetarians now, but they don't mind if we do. Served with a huge baked potato and a hell of a salad."

"Sounds good, Admiral," said Trip, downing the last of his ale in one gulp. "I'm starving."

* * *

Aboard the Enterprise, T'Pol stared contemplatively into her cup of tea, her mind racing to find an escape from the trap in which she now found herself entangled, as she now suspected that she was in some measure of trouble. The artificial pon'farr cycle she'd just endured had been prematurely aborted, true, but that had not been enough it seemed. Though she'd escaped the requirement to mate indiscriminately at the time and the full intensity of the pon'farr cycle was apparently side-stepped, its effects on her physiology were not to be so easily avoided, it seemed, and T'Pol sexual desires had only increased with each passing day.

This very day she'd had to excuse herself from the Bridge twice in order to silence those cravings, which threatened her control. Meditation might have helped, but that took time and she'd been on duty, so T'Pol, ah, took matters in hand in the restroom, just off the Bridge. Maddeningly, that did very little to silence the cravings of her body, and worst of all, if she was correct, she would have to contend with these cravings a full year, before she'd begin to be able to fully assert control over her body, and her desires.

"What to do?" thought T'Pol.

She'd already broken her engagement with Koss, and even if she hadn't, the thought of mating with Koss and then spending an entire year bound to Vulcan and Koss's clan, seemed dull in comparison to traveling space with Tri— with Commander Tucker, and the crew of the Enterprise. Thinking of the man now, T'Pol felt only bitter disappointment at his recent departure, as he would have been the perfect solution to her problem, for T'Pol was certain that the man would be willing to help out with her current difficulty, and the idea of spending a year as Commander Tucker's lover seemed most agreeable to T'Pol… no, more than agreeable, much more than that.

"I must ramp up my meditation," thought T'Pol. "Commander Tucker will return in a month, and then we will see what comes of my desires. I can hold out that long."

The alternative to that strategy of waiting for Commander Tucker, was to return to Vulcan and seek out a mate, but that option appealed to T'Pol no more than taking Koss as a mate. No, for now, she would increase her meditation, and take regular physical measures to control her cravings as best as possible. She could last a month.

* * *

The day after landing on Vulcan and dining with the Admiral, Trip woke at 0600 hours, showered, shaved, ate and dressed, then left his assigned room in a long term stay Vulcan hotel which catered heavily to the Humans from the nearby embassy, and he walked two blocks in the bright early morning sun, to reach the Earth's Embassy.

A few minutes to clear security, another few minutes to reach the roof and board the StarFleet shuttle ferrying him and four other Human officers to T'Lek Sor, Vulcan's largest military shipyard, built just within the orbital pull of the planet Delta Vega, an ice planet much further out from the Vulcan system's primary sun, 40 Eridani A, than Vulcan. For a pre-warp culture, the sheer distance from Vulcan to Delta Vega would have been daunting, but with modern means of propulsion the trip between Vulcan and the T'Lek Sor took just 17.2 minutes at warp 3.

That T'Lek Sor was located here was no mistake, for this remote location was far easier to secure against unwanted intrusion and surveillance than the civilian yards which orbited Vulcan, and though Trip would have dearly loved to press his face to the shuttle's glass portholes like a little kid in order to see everything as the shuttle approached the giant shipyard, in the presence of other officers Trip played it cool, and kept his seat.

The facility itself was impressive as hell, far larger than anything Humans had built to date, and although some of the civilian shipyards orbiting Vulcan were larger than T'Lek Sor and produced many more civilian ships, T'Lek Sor was far in advance of the civilian shipyards in terms of build quality, and it was this shipyard which produced the largest, the most powerful, the most impressive of Vulcan battle cruisers.

Minutes later, the shuttle landed in a pressurized shuttle bay, and upon leaving the shuttle each officer was approached by a Vulcan Ensign or Lieutenant, and a young Vulcan male approached Trip in his turn.

"Commander Tucker," said the Vulcan. "I am V'Tesk, and I will be your assistant for your entire month with us."

Trip gave V'Tesk the ta'al, the traditional Vulcan salute with the fingers split in a V shape, and said, "It's good to be here, Lieutenant."

V'Tesk nodded, and then said, "If it pleases you, Commander Tucker, I will introduce you to Administrator Volok now. He has set aside the rest of his day to give you a personal overview of this facility. This way, please."


	3. Chapter 3

**— Chapter 03 —**

* * *

Seven days after departing the Enterprise, and two days after boarding T'Lek Sor, Trip had quickly found contentment here, just as he'd found the Vulcans to be pleasantly cordial.

"So you see, Commander Tucker," said Volok, the Vulcan administrator of T'Lek Sor, pointing out some of the struts making up the superstructure of the shipyard, "every element serves a purpose in reinforcing the structure. It's not just a matter of ornamental design."

"Well sure," said Trip, "I get that, Administrator Volok, but it must have taken twice the labor and three times as long to construct this design, over a more spartan and logical design, which one might safely assume that Vulcans might favor."

"Yes, Commander Tucker, all that is true," said Volok, "but it's a matter of, lvodana…, ah, how to explain it…"

"Lvodana t'ekel fersik," said Trip, "that particular Vulcan aesthetic sensibility characterized by intricate linear designs and flowing curves based on natural forms."

"Precisely," said Volok, quite surprised. "So, you are familiar with both, Vulcan design principles, and the Vulcan tongue."

"Vakal'ti," said Trip: a little. "That's all I know, Administrator."

"I suspect you know a bit more," said Volok. "In any case, your pronunciation is quite close to the established Vulcan standards. Take the opportunity, while aboard this facility, to practice your Vulcan."

"Ponfo miran," said Trip.

"Did you intend to say that I should go to hell, Commander Tucker?" said Volok.

"Oh. No," said Trip, after a moment's mental gymnastics to search for the proper terms he'd meant to express. "I meant polfor mirrak. Sorry about that, Administrator Volok. I get confused sometimes, in translating my meaning to Vulcan."

"Call me, Volok," said the Vulcan, somehow conveying good-natured amusement, despite the largely neutral expression on his face.

"Trip."

Volok nodded, and said, "So how did you come to take an interest in the Vulcan language, Trip?"

"I'm an engineer," said Trip, "and Vulcans are the best engineers in this sector of space. I wanted to read your textbooks and manuals as they were intended to be read, not filtered through a translator. So a couple of years ago I took some Vulcan language course offered by StarFleet, and since then I've followed up on those courses as best as I could, with additional materials and occasional tutoring. As a result, I can read Vulcan quite well, but mastery of the spoken tongue still eludes me. The Enterprise's Comm Officer is a talented linguist, and I've sought her help from time to time, in order to improve my pronunciation, but as you can see, I'm hopeless."

"Not so, Trip. Vulcan is not an easy language to master," said Volok, "but I urge you to persevere. If you like, I will see that you are provided with the educational audio/video materials we keep on hand for alien visitors. They are well put together, and quite thorough, and you are welcome to keep them when you leave here."

"I'd appreciate that, Volok," said Trip. "I have a large stockpile of material on the Enterprise, but I'm always on the lookout for more. Thank you."

"You are quite welcome," said Volok. "Now, that explains your familiarity with Vulcan, but how did you come to learn about our aesthetic principles?"

"I'm a curious cat who tends to range far and wide in pursuit of my interests," said Trip. "And I appreciate you being so generous with your time, during my stay here. I've enjoyed myself immensely here, both personally, and professionally, Volok."

"Than I have good news for you," said Volok. "We are putting together a Suurok-class combat cruiser next month, and I've already received permission from the High Command to allow you to partake in the process if that interests you, though it would require you spend another month with us, in order to see some twelve thousand Vulcans construct a capital ship in relatively short order."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" said Trip, as exited as a little kid on Christmas morning. "I'd love it, Volok! Love it, love it, love it!"

That was no exaggeration on Trip's part, as the thought of seeing a Suurok class cruiser come together was exhilarating. Tens of thousands of pre-built sections, often containing other pre-built sections and parts, all coming together to form one of the premiere combat cruisers in known space, and efficient though the Vulcans were, it was still a marvel that they could accomplish such a complex task in a single month.

Doubtless, there would be a wealth of information to be collected by observing the process, but Trip had already discovered something priceless when he'd discovered the manner in which Vulcan ship hulls were constructed, for they weren't built as Humans understood the term. Vulcan ship hulls were essentially sprayed painted. A nano-alloy solution was mechanically sprayed upon a mock up of the ship's superstructure formed out of a plastic fiber mesh some forty-eight inches thick, and once the nano-alloy solution saturated the plastic mesh, the alloy hardened over the course of a few weeks and joined together into a ship's hull which boasted outstanding hardness, flexibility and toughness, and that was a tricky combination to get right, and one which would otherwise have required some very talented metal engineering in order to achieve the same ends.

"Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to observe that process, Volok," said Trip earnestly. "You must know it's priceless, from an engineer's viewpoint."

Volok nodded, and said, "Well then, back to business. Would you like to view the blueprints of the Suurok we will be assembling?"

"Yes," said Trip.

Volok stepped over to a large work table with Trip in tow, and then Volok brought up the Suurok's blueprints on the video monitor which also served as the table's top.

A moment later, Volok zoomed in on a particular section, tapped it with his fingers, and said, "This is the heart of the ship. Engineering. See it clearly?"

"I see it," said Trip, nodding at Volok to continue, and continue they did for the next 9.3 hours as they pored over the blueprints of the Suurok cruiser.

* * *

A bit more than three weeks since her initial physical exam with Doctor Phlox, a bit more than a week after Commander Tucker's departure, and T'Pol knew that she was in trouble. Sexual desires were rising in the Vulcan in a seemingly exponential manner, and this despite the fact that she'd actually spoken with Doctor Phlox, and after a mercifully brief explanation the good doctor had attempted to mitigate T'Pol arousal with medications… all to no effect.

T'Pol had difficulty concentrating at her Science station now, and this despite the fact that she'd stepped off the Bridge several times, in order to find satisfaction in the restroom facilities across the hall from the Bridge. No matter. Commander Tucker would return in twenty-two days.

* * *

"Kivroton e'mat!" said Trip.

"No," said V'Tesk, Trip's assistant, "but close, Commander Tucker. "Kivrotton e'mat!"

"That sounded exactly as I've pronounced it!" said Trip, certain now that V'Tesk was screwing with him with that dry humor which was typically Vulcan.

"No, Commander Tucker," said Alisse, who had been guiding Trip through more of the schematics of the soon to be built Suurak class cruiser, for the past six hours "Listen. Kivrotton… Kiv-ro-TTon."

"Oh," said Trip. "Yeah, I hear it now. Ok. Thanks, Alisse. Now, what can I do for you, V'Tesk?"

"Administrator Volok asks if you would care to join him for dinner in thirty minutes."

"I'd like that," said Trip. "Would you contact him please, and tell him so while I clean up?"

"Certainly, Commander Tucker," said V'Tesk.

Meanwhile, Trip thanked Alisse for her time in passable Vulcan, though hampered somewhat in the process by the need to mentally translate from English to Vulcan, but the Ensign nodded as approvingly as if Commander Tucker had just recited an epic poem from memory: the man really did have a good work ethic, and he was putting forth a great deal of effort in order to further his grasp of the Vulcan language.

* * *

"Morning, T'Pol," said Archer, as the Vulcan stepped into the Captain's Mess for breakfast.

"Captain," said T'Pol, assuming her customary seat after an involuntary glance towards Commander Tucker's chair.

The next few minutes were spent in relative silence as they placed their breakfast orders with the steward, and then waited for the man to return moments later with coffee and tea.

"So," said Archer, "how are you this morning, T'Pol?"

"Quite well, Captain. How is our day looking?" said T'Pol, knowing that Archer always asked for a status report from the nightshift's Acting Captain immediately upon waking, and well before breakfast.

"Well, the good news," said Archer, "is that we're close enough to Earth to swing by, and pick up another engineer to cover for Trip."

"Is that necessary? Kelby and I are doing a decent job of it, Captain," said T'Pol, "and Commander Tucker will be back aboard the Enterprise in three weeks or s—"

"That got pushed back, T'Pol," said Archer, after taking a sip of his coffee.

"What?" said T'Pol, her properly erect pose just a bit straighter on hearing that bit of information. "What did you say?"

"Your people offered Trip a chance to see a Suurok class cruiser assembled," said Archer, "and he couldn't pass that opportunity by the wayside."

"I see," said T'Pol, disturbed by this bit of news, her mind just partially attuned to the captain's words as the man kept talking about the upcoming day.

* * *

It was later that night, that T'Pol stood nude in front of her bathroom mirror. She was hot, so hot that her skin glistened, but that heat, born entirely between her legs, was not why she'd stripped naked. Rather, it was that the touch of cloth, the touch of anything on her skin, was too much to bear just now.

Earlier, she had lain on the cool deck plating, shifting every so often as the unimaginable heat from her body stripped the deck of its coolness, and she had pleasured herself, in only lightly, meaning only to satisfy the need and quench the fires in order to gain some peace, but instead she'd ended up more frustrated than ever. Not satisfied!

Giving up the fight then, she'd masturbated feverishly for an hour, and most depressingly, the effort had done no good at all. Looking now at her image in the mirror, breasts still rising and falling quickly due to her rapid breathing, her hair, matted and moist with sweat, T'Pol felt something close to despair. She had placed so much hope on Commander Tucker's return in three weeks, but now… she'd never be able to wait seven weeks. Still, her efforts of the past hour had bought T'Pol time to think, time to plan, for logic dictated that she must now bow to her physical imperatives.

T'Pol was no virgin. She'd stood in once for another Vulcan's mate when the pon'farr had come upon that Vulcan while separated from his mate by distance, and before that she'd had two relationships with Vulcan males. Those had been relationships guided by logic, their purpose being to learn precisely how to satisfy purely physical needs and nothing more, for such was the way that Vulcans largely viewed sexuality outside the Bond… it was the Bond alone which elevated a mere physical act, into a spiritual act.

Agitated still, T'Pol reached over to the ice bucket she'd picked up from the mess hall before heading for her quarters, and dipped her right hand into the icy shock of the bucket, and found herself unable to resist the urge to rub the newfound coolness of her hands between her legs. For a moment, a sweet moment, the coolness lingered there, and T'Pol found a brief respite, only to be punished cruelly as the heat returned even more intensely than before.

Tears of frustration rolled down T'Pol's cheeks now, and she hastily mopped them up with her hand. Alas, unthinkingly, she'd used the right hand which she'd dunked in the bucket and which she'd then used to cool herself, and T'Pol could scent her own excitement even more intensely radiating in parallel lines where her fingers touched her cheeks. With a low moan, she dipped both hands into the ice bucket.

She had scavenged it from the galley earlier. She should have scavenged a galley worker instead. Perhaps the one with the intense dark eyes, or perhaps the one with the blonde hair. Perhaps both... and with that thought, T'Pol realized that she was losing control.

A moments rage against the unfairness of it all, against the unjust physiological demands placed on the Vulcan mind and body, and then T'Pol collapsed to the floor where she felt the pulse of the warp engines, beating in time with the same throbbing, agonizing warmth all but splitting her in two. All that was followed shortly after by a flash of insight and a course of action laid out for T'Pol to set her free of this cursed trap: there would be no elevation in taking this logical course of action, realized T'Pol, no Bonds to truly bind her to her chose mate, but she had to find physical satisfaction. Now!

* * *

**Fanatical T&T supporters(Kathy, Dot, SJ, are you listening?) should stop reading here… this story is going down a dark hole from this point onward, where T&T are concerned. It's not my fault! Rishooter is holding a gun to my head and he's gonna blow my brains out if I don't keep typing this... this travesty! May God have mercy on my soul!


	4. Chapter 4

**— Chapter 04 —**

* * *

"Enter," said Archer.

The man was stretched out on his bunk, with Porthos, his Beagle, sprawled on his lap as the two watched a recorded water polo match from the last Olympics, and Archer was clearly not expecting a social visit this evening given that he was wearing a faded t-shirt and some old pajama bottoms: Trip was the only one who'd felt free to pay frequent social visits to the captain's cabin, but Trip was gone on his away mission, and a moment later the door slid aside and T'Pol entered the captain's quarters, seemingly as poised as ever, though her control was being sorely tested even now.

"What's up, T'Pol?" said Archer, for although T'Pol had come to his quarters now and then, it was a rare event. "Problems?"

"Yes," said T'Pol, "though not the way you mean it, Captain."

"Oh, oh. Sounds serious," said Archer, and indicated that T'Pol should take a seat in an overstuffed chair that faced the bed.

After a moment's thought the Vulcan did as directed and she noted Archer looking at her expectantly. T'Pol would have liked nothing better than to leave here without saying a word, but her needs were insistent, and they were intensifying once again. She would soldier on.

"I imagine that you are not overly familiar with Vulcan physiology, Captain," said T'Pol.

"No, I'm not," said Archer, curious now to learn what this was all about, as T'Pol's topic of discussion was unexpected. "Go on."

"Yes, well," said T'Pol, "you are aware, no doubt, of the medical episode I dealt with just recently, during the same time period in which you were a captive of Skalaar, the bounty hunter."

"Yes, I'm aware of it," said Archer. "Phlox said your mating instinct was activated by an unknown bacterium, or virus. Is that right?"

"Essentially," said T'Pol, relieved that Archer knew the essence of it all: it should make things easier to explain. "In any case, although the doctor relieved me of the most intense aspects of that infection, the residual effects are still troubling me."

"Ok," said Archer. "Anything we can do, we will do. I'll make your health Phlox's first priority starti—."

"No, no," said T'Pol. "There is nothing Doctor Phlox can do for me. He has already tried. My needs are of a more personal nature, Captain."

"I don't understand," said Archer, speaking truthfully.

"Captain," said T'Pol, after a deep breath to center herself, "Vulcan passions are a powerful thing, and I will be suffering the after effects of having my mating drive activated. I have needs, Captain."

"Oh, I understand, T'Pol," said Archer. "You need more personal time for meditation, shorter shifts, whateve—."

"No, Captain, I have physical needs," said T'Pol, and after a brief pause, she plunged ahead. "Sexual needs, Captain, and I need your help."

Archer snorted at that, and then a funny look settled on his face.

"Ok, T'Pol," said Archer, his head shaking as the captain suppressed his laughter. "I know that Trip's off the ship, but that bastard's stirring the pot now, isn't he? I'm being punked, right? Where are the cameras?"

"Punked, Captain?"

"Yeah," said Archer, "you and Trip set this up. A prank. A joke. Ha, freaking ha, T'Pol. You tell that bastard I'm not falling for it, next time you talk to him."

"I assure you, Captain," said T'Pol. "There is no prank, no joke, going on here."

"Yeah, ok," said Archer, still clearly skeptical, and T'Pol stood. "Well, you and Trip are good, but—."

Archer's words were cut off as if with a knife when T'Pol began shedding her Vulcan uniform, and it was only then that Archer realized that this was no joke - T'Pol would never go along with it this far for a silly Human joke, and for the first time in a long time, Archer was rendered speechless. T'Pol made use of that silence to strip off her shape-hugging uniform and then step out of it, after which she stood at attention in her typical pose, proud, poised, hands clasped behind her back, as she stood for Archer's visual inspection…

Flawless! thought Archer. He'd often imagined T'Pol nude, but his imagination had fallen short of reality, if just barely so, but T'Pol really was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen nude, of any species.

"Captain?" said T'Pol, for Archer had been silent for a while now. "If you do not find me adequately attract—."

"No," said Archer, pushing Porthos aside and rising off his bed to approach the Vulcan. "It's not that, T'Pol. You're beautiful."

T'Pol's lips curled slightly in triumph even as the man finished his protest. The tremor in the captain's voice told her that she'd already won. Muscles deep within her twitched in anticipation and the Vulcan arched her back subtly, that motion redirecting Archer's attention to her breasts and surely stilling any further protest which the man might have planned on uttering.

T'Pol said nothing as Archer approached her, and though she watched him intently, the details of his form barely mattered to her now, only his capacity to please her, to feed the ravenous beast within her, a beast strong enough and ravenous enough to take what it needed from the captain, but disciplined enough for now, just barely, to hold back from that, for T'Pol feared such actions would terrify the Human.

Archer stood close enough now to look down at T'Pol and then she felt his hands and she moved, and turned a bit, in order to give him full access to her body, assuming that Human mating practices were sufficiently similar to Vulcan to smooth the entire process, and when she felt Archer bend down a bit to kiss her, T'Pol reciprocated the kiss, and her arousal, which had only temporarily been silenced by her own actions, flamed to life once more.

With a force Archer found surprising from the slender Vulcan, T'Pol pushed him towards his bed and they stumbled backwards onto it, T'Pol rolling the man to his back, then mounting him and guiding his lips to her core. T'Pol gasped then, as she felt the man's mouth and lips moving earnestly on her sex, felt his tongue part her petals, quite skillfully, quite delightfully, only to then penetrate the core of her, then pull back, and repeat the process in a slightly different way that time, and then the next, and the next, all while T'Pol moved her own hand in a circular pattern just above the captain's tongue and lips, to stimulate a neural node, and the combined effect was an ecstasy that was quite intense, if short lived. She needed more now, for her instinct was to mate, else masturbation would have been enough to satiate her earlier. The beast within her needed more, hungered for more sensation than Archer's quite adequate oral skills could provide and so the man would now provide more. He must, and so T'Pol moved, and freed the man to move in turn.

"Strip," said T'Pol, and Archer rose off the bunk to quickly and eagerly strip off his t-shirt, and then join T'Pol back onto the bed.

Archer might have had his own ideas and he was fully aroused, but T'Pol took charge once more, guiding the man onto his back, then grasped hold of Archer gently, which brought a moan from the man, and then T'Pol straddled the captain in order to lower herself onto him, sliding him within her body, for she was quite heated now.

She began to move then atop Archer, moving back and forth in a silky, flowing motion, and Archer began moaning at that, his hands finding T'Pol's breasts, and the Vulcan looked down on Archer, dispassionately, odd as that might have seemed to a Human, but then she was a Vulcan with a need to mate, and so the nature of his thoughts was unimportant: he was a tool, a pleasant enough tool, but still just a tool, and one which T'Pol used to bring on her own orgasm in short order, just ahead of Archer's own climax.

A break now, for Archer to gain steam once more and T'Pol made use of this time to fully explain to Archer what had caused her unusual behavior, and ask for the man's discretion in the matter, and by the time it was all said and done the captain was ready to breach the gates once more, so to speak, and then T'Pol thanked the captain for his understanding and made her way back to her quarters right then, lest the crew see her leave the captain's quarters in the morning.

For his part, Archer laid awake grinning ear to ear like a dolt, but come on, thought Archer, who the hell could blame me?

* * *

"Dollova Tucker aker malana'ross," said the anonymous voice of the Comm officer manning the Command & Control Center of the T'Lek Sor, his orders relayed over the station's speaker system: 'Commander Tucker report to conference room 3."

"Was addressing Commander Tucker in Vulcan done intentionally?" said Ambassador Soval, looking for answers from Administrator Volok.

"Yes," said Volok. "Commander Tucker has shown a solid grasp of the Vulcan language and he's integrating quite nicely here. I would have tried to woo the man for service here on T'Lek Sor, but I did not wish to cause friction between us, and StarFleet."

Admiral Ryan, who was seated next to Soval and was familiar with Trip's personnel file, said, "If I remember correctly, Commander Tucker has taken advantage of StarFleet's Vulcan language courses, so it pleases me that he's stuck with his studies long enough to actually gain something from the effort."

"He's doing quite well," said Volok. "He's a year or two from fluency, depending on his environment, but he is quite intelligent, and he soaks up knowledge like a sponge."

Just then Trip entered the room, saw Ryan, and saluted, then stood at attention, waiting for instruction.

"Join us, Commander Tucker," said Ryan, pointing towards a seat at the table.

Once seated, Soval said, "So, how do you find your time at T'Lek Sor, Commander Tucker?"

"It's been an enlightening and exciting time for me, Ambassador," said Trip. "Administrator Volok has been quite accommodating to my presence here, and I'm very appreciative of that fact."

Volok nodded towards Trip in response, pleased that the Human had found his time here enriching, and said, "Your presence here has been our gain, Commander Tucker."

"Do any of the processes, applications and procedures which you've observed here have a place in a StarFleet shipyard?" said Ryan.

"Many of them do, sir," said Trip. "The Vulcans who designed this facility and set in place the procedures by which this place runs put a great deal of thought into every single thing, and copying them would be, frankly… logical. I've written voluminous notes on what I've learned here, should the Admiralty wish a report on those things."

"Good," said Ryan, suppressing a slight smile. "I hear you're going to see a Suurok class battle cruiser zipped up together in what, two more weeks?"

"Yes, sir," said Trip, "but zipped together is a bit of an understatement. Should be a dream to see and partake in, sir."

"Well, don't fuck anything up while you're here, or I'll never hear the end of it, you hear?" said Ryan.

"Yes, sir," said Trip.

"All right," said Ryan. "Dismissed."

Trip stood, saluted, and returned back to the engineering section he'd left in response to the call which had summoned him here.

"If Commander Tucker is an example of a typical StarFleet officer, we will do quite well together," said Volok, "in the coming days."

Although the Administrator was not officially in the know of the reasons for the sudden willingness of the High Command to open everything up to StarFleet personnel, Volok was no fool… war was coming. The only question was with whom, and when.

* * *

The presence of a Human admiral on T'Lek Sor had not passed the scrutiny of the Vulcans assigned to serve in this military shipyard, and it aroused curiosity, for this was the first such visit, ever. Perhaps, as an isolated event it would have held no deeper meaning, but given the other moves which the High Command had made in conjunction with the Vulcan Navy… well, things were afoot, of that there was no doubt. So it was that three Vulcans approached Commander Tucker as the man warmed up in preparation for a workout, and they did so meaning to subtly probe the man for information.

That he was even here in the gym was interesting for a good number of Humans might have considered additional exercise unnecessary, as T'Lek Sor's gravity was set to Vulcan standard gravity, which was higher than Earth's, but if the additional pull of gravity bothered the man, he didn't show it. Certainly he was fit, and he'd worked out daily since coming here, brutal workouts one and all, and if the Human could never match the raw strength of the strongest of Vulcans as a consequence of genetics in differing species, well, he could still match most of them, which was about as much as could be expected from a Human's lessor strength.

In any case, of the three Vulcans approaching the Human, Sezrek knew Commander Tucker, for Sezrek worked in Engineering.

"Commander Tucker," said Sezrek, "you seem in a mood to test yourself tonight."

"Test, or maintain, Sezrek," said Trip. "Some days are better than others."

"Just so," said Sezrek. "Perhaps you'd like to join the three of us? We're here to train in grappling this evening, if you have any interest in such things. I assure you, the demands placed on your body are every bit as stringent as weight training."

"That much I know, Sezrek," said Trip.

"Oh?" said Sezrek. "Even better in that case. We can learn from each other, no doubt, and become stronger for it, and perhaps even support each other in the coming days."

Trip smiled at that for he read between the lines of Sezrek's words, so he looked at the Vulcans, and said, "I don't know anything for certain, Sezrek, but I can add two and two and come up with four, just as well as you. It probably means what you think it means, so it's best we prepare for it, as best we can."

"Indeed, Commander Tucker," said Sezrek, after a quick glance to his fellow Vulcans, and those two were a bit nonplussed that the Human had seen through them all so clearly.

"Now, was the offer of unarmed combat training genuine, or just an attempt to pump me for information?" said Trip.

"Oh, no, Commander Tucker," said Sezrek. "That was genuine. We train a couple of hours here every night, either grappling or striking. You are welcome to join us, during your stay on T'Lek Sor."

"Great," said Trip. "Count me in."


	5. Chapter 5

— **Chapter 05 —**

* * *

Two weeks later, the big day was finally here for Trip, as the assembly of the Suurok class battlecruiser named the Torvek was scheduled to begin in the military shipyard of T'Lek Sor, and though Trip was just about going out of his mind with excitement, he contained his boundless energy beneath a composed demeanor, to the best of his ability, lest Volok should bust his chops mercilessly over the matter with that dry Vulcan wit... still, not even Trip's best efforts could conceal that happy smile, and overly bright eyes.

The first step was watching the huge, hollow, ship's hull as it was moved into the proper position, and locked in place through the application of both, force fields, and physical positioning systems. The hull had been constructed in another section of the yard, but perhaps constructed was not quite accurate, for Vulcans used nano-technology in novel ways to essentially spray their ship's hulls into their final form, rather than build them in the conventional fashion, and the result was a far superior end product. Still, the most exciting part was now, and Trip had a bird's eye view of the process from a specially built shuttle whose hull was mostly composed of five inch thick tempered glass, built around a web like, alloyed steel frame.

"Here we go, Trip," said Volok, who was manning the glass shuttle.

"I'm watching," said Trip, intently focused now.

Trip's vigilance was directed to the sight of a Suurok class battlecruiser maneuvering the new ship's pre-built warp drive engines, maneuvering them quite carefully towards the hull through the use of its tractor beams, where a half dozen small one man shuttles took over from there, and after achieving a magnetic lock with the engines, slowly and carefully made some last minute adjustments, and then finally flew the engines into the new ship's hull.

Volok pressed a few buttons on the shuttle's console, and construction cameras temporarily mounted inside the new ship tracked the progress of the engines through the hull until they finally reached their final destination, the Torvek's Engine Room. Some two hundred engineers in EV suits swarmed all over the engines now, welding them in place among the load bearing structures specifically built into the hull for just such a purpose.

"It will take them hours to secure the engines in place," said Volok. "Let us put on some EV suits and monitor the process from the inside."

"I love you, Volok!"

"What?"

"Nothing," said Trip. "Let's go! I want to watch your boys lock those engines into place!"

Twenty minutes later, Trip and Volok floated inside the Torvek's hull, maneuvering around occasionally through the use of the maneuvering packs on their backs, which allowed them to move through the expulsion of small blasts of compressed air. Trip had gotten the hang of the maneuvering packs quickly and now, when Volok waved Trip over to a good vantage point, it took just seconds to reach Volok's side, and the two took an upside down position on the interior hull through the service of their magnetized boots.

"Turn your attention to the left side, Trip," said Volok. "Note the 3rd squad wiring the cables for the manual switch, inside the proper steel tubing."

"I'm watching," said Trip, the see through face-shield of his helmet, interfacing with the built in CPU in the helmet, to zoom in on the men at work. "That's nice. Keeps those cables nice and safe, and keeps everything tidy."

"Precisely," said Volok.

Just as Volok finished speaking, a nearby Vulcan began welding a spar to the engine casing, and everyone's face shield adjusted automatically for the super-bright light, by darkening noticeably.

"Now," said Volok, "let us fly over to the starboard side. I want to show you something you will find interesting."

"Right," said Trip, eager to see first hand everything Volok thought important enough to specifically point out.

* * *

T'Pol slipped from the captain's quarters and headed for the Mess Hall, just after the sixth of their sexual encounters in the past two weeks, and although the Vulcan looked as composed as ever, she did not feel that way. Oh, there was nothing wrong with the captain, and T'Pol appreciated the man's understanding, discretion, and efforts to please her, she truly did… but their sexual union just didn't satisfy T'Pol on a deeper level than physical, though the physical pleasure was a welcome relief. Trouble was, T'Pol was unable to articulate precisely what was wrong with the captain's approach, perhaps because she was unable to articulate what she truly needed.

Trouble was the pon'farr cycle which Phlox had medically terminated, had not been allowed to run its course. That was a mistake, T'Pol saw that now. Phlox should have simply allowed the cycle to play out, and she would have mated with someone, and unless a Bond between her and her chosen temporary mate sparked, which would have been extremely unlikely without the intervention of a Vulcan mind-priest, well, the cycle would have run it's course and she could have finished out her year of heightened sexual impulses without the unwanted undercurrent of angst in her psyche which derided Archer as inadequate, yet flailed to name any other as adequate, save perhaps, Commander Tucker.

"Still, things must be dealt with," thought T'Pol. "If the captain is not a suitable mate, perhaps another is called for, at least until Commander Tucker returns to the Enterprise, and then perhaps the commander will turn out to be a suitable mate for the rest of my year of need."

She reached the Mess Hall, and filled a cup of hot tea from the beverage dispenser machine, then took a seat at the corner table which Commander Tucker favored, and which she'd come to favor as well by now, after sharing it with the man so many times. After a few sips of tea, T'Pol turned her attention to the matter at hand. Who…

In truth, there was but one possible candidate. Lieutenant Reed. The man's interest in her was quite clear, or rather his appreciation of her physique at least, for she'd noticed the man subtly watching her on the Bridge. In addition, he had several traits that made him desirable partner in this venture. He had a dedication to duty which even a Vulcan would find admirable, he was professional, private, and best of all, easily the most logical officer aboard this ship. He would likely welcome a physical relationship such as she offered, a mere release of physical tension, beneficial for them both.

As if in answer to her thoughts just then, Lt. Reed stepped in the Mess Hall, and nodded T'Pol's way, and T'Pol acted. She stood walked over to the beverage machine, where Lt. Reed was filling his go-cup with coffee, and made eye contact with the man.

"How are you this morning, SubCommander?" said Reed.

"I am well, Lieutenant," said T'Pol, wondering how she should broach the subject she had in mind.

"Well, I'll see you on the Bridge then," said Reed. "I need to stop by Tactical and—"

"Actually, I was hoping I might have a few moments of your time, Lieutenant," said T'Pol. "In private."

"Oh?" said Malcolm. "Certainly, SubCommander. How about now? We're alone."

"All right," said T'Pol, and led the man to the nearest table, and not back to the table favored by Commander Tucker.

Ten minutes later, Lt. Reed was briefed in the basics of the situation and T'Pol's physiological needs, though the captain was not mentioned at any time during the course of that abbreviated briefing, and although the lieutenant showed no sign of excitement on his face, T'Pol's keen sense of smell picked up the pheromones which marked the man's arousal.

"I realize that I may have caught you by surprise with my offer," said T'Pol, "so do not feel obliged to agree if you are—"

"It is a surprising offer, SubCommander," said Malcolm, "but I am willing to, ah, aid you during this time of need. You may count on my discretion."

"I was certain of that fact, Lt. Reed," said T'Pol, "before I even thought to ask. You are an agreeably professional officer."

Malcolm nodded, and said, "May I ask where and when you would need me to make myself available, SubCommander?"

The logical thing to do was to invite the man to her quarters, but T'Pol didn't like bringing others into her private space. It was her refuge.

"Perhaps I could drop by this evening?" said T'Pol. "Say 1900 hours?"

Malcolm nodded, feeling a pleasurable anticipation, and said, "Yes, SubCommander. 1900 hours it is. Now, I really should get to Tactical and make certain all is ship shape. The Denobulans are boarding the ship to upgrade our weapons this day."

T'Pol nodded, and moments later the Mess Hall was deserted once again, save for her presence, and her thoughts.

* * *

"A hell of a day, Volok," said Trip, hours later, spotting for the older Vulcan as that man bench pressed a barbell. "It was exciting to watch this project of yours come together."

"Oh, yes," said Volok, moments later, after completing the set. "I have seen a hundred combat cruisers brought together since I've assumed command here, and I find it just as 'exciting', each and every time."

"I don't blame you," said Trip as he stepped a few feet away, to the loaded barbell on the floor.

"What are you going to do with that?" said Volok.

In answer, Trip squatted while grasping the barbell and in a smooth, fluid motion he lifted it from the floor, held it for three seconds, then lowered it in a controlled fashion to the floor.

"Nice," said Volok. "How much weight is that?"

"240 pounds," said Trip, "but I think the best a Human ever did on this lift is 484 pounds."

After a moments concentration Volok attempted the lift, and failed.

"The snatch is not just a matter of raw strength, Volok," said Trip. "You're trying to perform the lift in stages, but the snatch is powered from the core. It's an explosive motion in which every part of you has to work in concert with the rest. Done right it creates a synergy of movement, of strength and speed which is quite enjoyable to experience, and carries over to all matter of real life applications, whether that's combat, or sport."

"I shall remember that," said Volok.

Some weight offloaded, a few more attempts, and Volok put together a respectable snatch at 160 pounds. If he kept at it, perfected his technique he should be able to reach 270 pounds in time.

"That was exhilarating, Trip," said Volok. "As is this."

Volok referred to the secret Human drink powder which Trip had brought along with him to the T'Lek Sor, and passed out to only a few select Vulcans.

"You are leaving us soon," said Volok. "Tell me what this is."

"Mexican hot cocoa powder," said Trip. "Dutch cocoa, cinnamon & cane sugar, but then I also added some powdered coconut milk and espresso powder. Along with some whey protein powder it makes for the ultimate protein shake."

"Agreed," said Volok, and raised his plastic shake bottle in Trip's honor. "I will miss this when you leave, Trip. I will miss your presence here as well."

"I feel the same, Volok," said Trip.

Shortly afterward Volok drifted to the showers and then his bunk, while Trip spent the next hour training striking with the Vulcans he'd fallen in with just recently, then headed for his quarters, where he reached out to Admiral Ryan.

"What the hell happened to you, Tucker?" said Ryan, taking note of Trip's sweaty and disheveled appearance. "Did you get your ass kicked or something?"

"In a matter of speaking, sir," said Trip. "I was training with some of the Vulcans, and the sons of bitches play rough."

"I hope you gave as good as you got," said Ryan.

"That I did, sir," said Trip.

"Excellent. So what's up?"

"I know you're leaving for Vulcan in a few hours," said Trip, "and I hoped to ask a favor of you."

"Sure," said Ryan. "What do you want?"

"Administrator Volok really went above and beyond the call of duty during my stay here," said Trip. "Every other Vulcan has done the same. I'd like StarFleet to show their gratitude in a meaningful way."

"How?"

"The Vulcans really love Mexican cocoa powder mix," said Trip, and laughed. "I know, it's funny. Anyway, I think it's great as well, but to them it's like catnip or something. Must be a chemical reaction, but they love it like nothing else. I'd like us to deliver some of this cocoa mix to this facility. I'll buy the cocoa mix, you pay the shipping, sir."

"All right," said Ryan, "but the fleet can pay for the cocoa as well. It's the least we can do for them babysitting your ass for weeks on end. What do you want? Ten pounds or so? Twenty?"

"I was thinking five thousand pounds, sir," said Trip. "There are a lot of Vulcans in this facility."

Ryan laughed at that, and said, "Ok. Probably take two or three weeks before one of our ships passes by here again, but I'll make sure the cocoa powder is on board. Fair enough?"

"Yes, sir," said Trip. "I'll email you the brand name in a few minutes. I need to find a packet so that I can be precise in naming the brand I know they'll love."

"Ok," said Ryan. "You've done good here, Tucker."

"Thank you, sir," said Trip, and with that Ryan nodded, and logged off.


	6. Chapter 6

**— Chapter 06 —**

* * *

Some five hours after his unexpected conversation with T'Pol in the Mess Hall, Malcolm was busy, as the Enterprise had reached Denobula and no time was wasted by anyone in the process of refitting the ship's weapons arrays. Archer left T'Pol in charge in order to pay a visit to Earth's Embassy to Denobula, as the man had orders to personally deliver some sensitive information to Earth's Ambassador to Denobula, and even as the captain left the ship, a dozen large Denobulan shuttles began arriving aboard the Enterprise, one after another, and soon departing after unloading their payload, at which point the men and women of Tactical, aided by Denobulan engineers from the planet below, wheeled the various technological payloads to their pre-determined positions.

Two hours to carefully unpack the Denobulan equipment, another hour to clean and discard the packing refuse, and then the work began in earnest, tearing apart weapons arrays and replacing lessor, Human engineered components and systems, with their higher quality, Vulcan engineered and Denobulan built components and systems, and although neither the Denobulans, nor the crew of the Enterprise, understood the reason for the urgency of the timetable to which they'd been ordered to adhere, all felt the pressure to get the job done.

* * *

T'Lis, the current head of the V'Shar, the Vulcan Security Directorate, stepped into her office to find her aide, Seftek, already there and awaiting her.

"Good morning, Director," said Seftek.

T'Lis nodded her greeting to the man, and said, "I know that look on your face, Seftek. What is it?"

"We've lost contact with two more of our officers," said Seftek. "Assuming the worst, that leaves us with seventeen people still in place on Romulus."

Seftek was speaking of the specially trained and surgically altered Vulcan operatives which had slipped into the Romulan Empire alone, or in pairs, all in service to Vulcan. Some two hundred operatives had slipped into the empire during the past two years, and now they were down to seventeen, for the Romulan officers of the Tal Shiar, the secretive intelligence service of the Romulan Star Empire, were fiendishly clever, painstakingly thorough, and quite ruthless in their pursuit of traitors and spies.

"How long?" said T'Lis, meaning how long since those officers had last checked in with their contacts.

"Sellak missed his third check-in in a row," said Seftek, "and La'kana was apprehended, in view of another one of our people. We will not hear from her again, and if we do, it means that the Romulans have turned her. She is now being forcefully interrogated, or she is dead."

T'Lis, sighed, for the logic of Seftek's words was sound. Unfortunately, service to Vulcan often carried a heavy price for the men and women of the V'Shar.

"Schedule a meeting so that I might speak with their families, and deliver this sad news personally," said T'Lis.

"Yes, Director."

* * *

"Mmmm. Looks good," said Trip, nodding his appreciation to Administrator Volok's acting steward as the Vulcan set a plate before Trip. "Thank you, Ensign."

"You are welcome, Commander Tucker," said Ensign Liat, officially an Ensign, biologically a female, undeniably cute, and a temporary fill-in for the administrator's normal steward who had been accidentally injured a day earlier, when he'd slipped down some stairs.

Trip looked down at his plate with appreciation. Vulcans might all be vegetarians now, and had been so since Surak's time, but they were accomplished cooks who knew precisely how to bring out the best in every vegetable dish, and this night's dinner plate was no different. A bed of royal blue Risan rice, circled by a good number of nicely caramelized cauliflower florets which had been spiced and then pan fried in butter to give them a beautiful color, after which they'd been finished in a hot oven, some nice cubes of a deep fried, orange, Vulcan gourd which had the light texture of spongecake, and the sweet taste of a yam, some type of steamed broccoli, and the inevitable dish of curried legumes. Without further ado, Trip began eating with gusto, while Administrator Volok took a moment to watch Trip dive into his food, and give a slight smile.

"You seem to have adjusted yourself to a Vulcan diet well enough," said Volok. "Were you a vegetarian before coming here?"

"No," said Trip, after swallowing a mouthful of cauliflower, "I eat meat, Volok. My favorite type is seafood, and as good as I find your chef's food and Vulcan cooking in general, I'd kill for some seafood right about now."

"Well, we can accommodate you, without requiring that you turn to cold blooded murder, Trip," said Volok with a straight face. "Delta Vega, the planet below, boasts a great variety of fish and shellfish in its icy waters."

"I'm going fishing!" said Trip.

"I am afraid that our schedule will not allow you to idle away your days in such pursuits," said Volok, "but I will have some seafood brought up for you from the planet."

"I don't want to put you out," said Trip.

"It is no trouble at all," said Volok. "We harvest several types of seaweeds from the icy waters below."

"In that case, I'd appreciate that, Volok," said Trip, "but won't that violate your ethics?"

"Not if the animals flesh is treated respectfully in order to sustain life," said Volok. "Small fish eat plankton, larger fish eat the smaller, and so on, until we get to you. Perhaps one day, something will eat you. Circle of life."

Trip laughed a bit at the grim thought of being eaten in his turn, then said, "Vol tevar."

"Ke'sok," said Volok: You're welcome.

* * *

The pain was over now, the screaming long done, the questions answered, and what was left of Lieutenant La'kana of the V'Shar, was moaning in agony now in a clinically bright torture chamber on Romulus, her suffering disregarded by her questioner, V'Trelle, whose attention was focused on a higher ranking officer, a tribune of the Tal Shiar, who had entered the room a few minutes earlier.

"You are certain she is of no further use to us, V'Trelle?" said the tribune, H'Daen, looking contemptuously at the Vulcan.

The tribune's cultured accent marked him as a scion of a noble house, and it was telling of the man that neither the Vulcan's admittedly attractive nude body, nor the cruel marks which she bore now as a result of her interrogation, affected the tribune's poise. He'd been privy to such sights many, many times before.

"Yes, Tribune," said V'Trelle. "The Vulcans kept things on a need-to-know basis, just as we ourselves would do, but I drew all that I could from this Vulcan, concerning her purpose here."

V'Trelle held out a memory card, which held the audio/visual record of the entire interrogation, towards the tribune.

"I also covered a number of other topics with our cousin," said V'Trelle, "and the Tal Shiar might find those topics of some interest."

The tribune took the memory card from V'Trelle's hand, and tucked it into his left glove, then eyed V'Trelle.

"Very well, V'Trelle," said the tribune, and it was clear that he was about to move on about his business. "Get rid of that creature."

"With your permission, Tribune," said V'Trelle, "a favor."

"What favor, V'Trelle?" said the tribune.

"The Vulcan, Tribune," said V'Trelle. "I could still make use of her in the practice of my art. Working on this female at length, studying her reactions and modes of resistance to my probes, should aid me break down the next spy all that much more efficiently."

The tribune nodded, the cool look on his face tinged by cynicism, as he wasn't fooled by V'Trelle, not in the least. The woman was both, a gleeful sadist who took joy in her chosen profession, and a lesbian with a predatory appetite for the women under her care, and H'Daen had no doubt that V'Trelle would draw out this Vulcan's suffering out for weeks or months merely to satisfy her own desires. Well, no harm done there: this was a Vulcan spy on Romulus, and the very thought of that was outrageous!

"Do you take me for a fool, V'Trelle?" said H'Daen, his voice mild.

"No, Tribune," said V'Trelle, her heart racing: she was well acquainted with H'Daen's temper, and she did not wish to find herself on the wrong side of it, this day, or ever.

"Then don't play games with me, V'Trelle," said H'Daen. "Tell me you want her as a toy with which to amuse yourself until she is broken beyond repair, and leave it at that."

"Yes, Tribune," said V'Trelle. "It is just as you say, and I ask your favor."

"Enjoy yourself, V'Trelle," said H'Daen. "You do good work, and it is fitting that you should be rewarded. But I have a game worthy of your talents."

"What is that, Tribune?" said V'Trelle.

"Do as you wish with her for now," said H'Daen, "but at the end of three months, you will both stand before me, at which time you will order this wretch to drive a dagger into her own stomach and remove herself from this existence."

"Yes, Tribune," said V'Trelle, smiling now: it was a sweet assignment, as a stomach wound was extremely painful, but not immediately fatal, and it would be a pleasure to turn this Vulcan into a tool for her own destruction: but until then, they would share some pleasant memories. "Looking forward to it, Tribune."

"Good," said H'Daen, "because if the Vulcan disobeys the command to end her life, you will take that dagger into your own belly. A game worthy of your talents."

"Yes, Tribune," said V'Trelle, her face a shade paler than usual: this was her punishment for dissimulating her intent to the tribune. "It will be as you command, Tribune."

H'Daen left V'Trelle with her new toy, amused with the entire matter. As easy as the assignment seemed, to break an already broken wretch, Vulcans were as strong willed as Romulans, and H'Daen had noted a slight smile cross the Vulcan's face just when he'd laid out the course of events to V'Trelle: it would be interesting to see, three months from now, which of them would carry the day.

* * *

After a long day's work and tedium, T'Pol stepped off the Bridge, ostensibly to make use of the bathroom facilities, but in truth, she stepped up to a wall console mounted in the hallway, which housed among other things a comm unit, and T'Pol activated that unit now.

"T'Pol to Reed," said T'Pol, reaching out to the torpedo bays on Deck F, as that was the man's last known location.

Moments later, Reed answered the call, just thirty minutes before 1900 hours, their appointed time.

"Reed, here," said Malcolm.

"Will you be able to make our appointment this evening to discuss those possible improvements in Tactical?" said T'Pol, uncertain if Lt. Reed was alone or not at the moment, and wishing to be discreet about the matter at hand. "If circumstances prevent you from—"

"Nothing prevents me from keeping our appointment, SubCommander," said Malcolm, understanding the Vulcan's meaning clearly enough. "I just finished here. I'll leave my door unlocked."

"Ah, very well. 1900 hours then," said T'Pol, understanding from that last comment that the lieutenant had been alone in the torpedo bay, and with that, T'Pol made way for the captain's Ready Room.

"Enter," said Archer when the chime sounded, announcing a visitor, and a moment later T'Pol entered the room. "What's up, T'Pol?"

"I was wondering if I might retire for a few hours, Captain," said T'Pol. "I could use a chance to meditate."

"Oh, absolutely, T'Pol. Your day is over," said Archer. "See you tomorrow."

"I can come back in a few hours," said T'Pol, "and relieve you until—"

"No. I'll ride it out until the night shift takes over," said Archer. "Get some rest, T'Pol."

"Thank you, Captain," said the Vulcan.

With that, T'Pol gave the captain a nod, and turned neatly on her heels in order to exit the room and make for her quarters, where she showered, changed uniforms, applied the light makeup she generally favored, and soon afterwards she was off, for she had an appointment to keep with Lt. Reed.


	7. Chapter 7

**— Chapter 07 —**

* * *

Though none who crossed T'Pol's path would have suspected it, for the Vulcan looked as cool and poised as ever as she walked the ship's halls on the way to Lt. Reed's quarters, the warmth between her legs was noticeable now, and it would be fair to say that she was anticipating the coupling soon to come… more than anticipating in fact, for her needs were becoming more and more insistent, and T'Pol hoped that Lt. Reed would be able to quench that heat, at least temporarily.

In Hasha's name, thought T'Pol, let this coupling bring me peace for at least the remainder of this night: I haven't had a solid night's sleep since all this began.

Even now, even the act of walking weakened her knees as the warm wave of unfulfilled desire grew in intensity, for although Phlox had prematurely aborted her first pon'farr, the good doctor had been unable to stifle these powerful after currents, these impulses and desires of the Old Blood that cared nothing for logic, or restraint. Logic and discipline could only accomplish so much when all was said and done, and as things stood now, only the barest thread of control remained within T'Pol.

Within moments, T'Pol reached her intended destination, and after a brief, discreet look about as she drew closer to the man's door, T'Pol pressed the thumbprint scanner that doubled as a security device/or notification device, and since the lieutenant had disabled the door's security settings, in essence leaving it unlocked, that touch gave T'Pol access to Lt. Reed's quarters.

Stepping swiftly inside the man's cabin as soon as the door had slid aside, T'Pol activated the door's security protocol from within, lest someone should barge in on her and the lieutenant, after which she looked curiously about the cabin. Lt. Reed was agreeably private about his personal life, but nothing in particular stood out about the man's cabin, save for a floor to ceiling case which served to display three antique swords, a steel mace, a steel axe and a half dozen daggers of various design, all of Indian or Persian manufacture, guessed T'Pol, for the Vulcan was not well enough versed in such matters to speak with a certainty.

Just then, T'Pol's attention was drawn to the bathroom when she heard the noise of the shower unit being activated and the rush of water, and T'Pol took that as an invitation and began stripping, her hands trembling as she removed her clothing. Moments later, a now nude T'Pol made her way into the bathroom.

The man was clearly aware she'd entered his bathroom almost instantly, as T'Pol noticed Lt. Reed freeze briefly in his motions, after which the man reached out for the shower stall's door and pressed it open with a click. T'Pol took that act as the invitation it was intended to be. All things considered, Lt. Reed had reacted much more agreeably to her presence than Archer, for he seemed to feel no need to waste time with foreplay or small talk, something which suited T'Pol perfectly at the moment.

As soon as she stepped into the shower stall, T'Pol scented the hormonal musk of the man's arousal, and she found it sharp and clean, in contrast to the captain's cloying scent. His physique was more pleasing still, as was the sharp eyed look in the man's eyes, for it seemed that Lt. Reed was not a sentimentalist: no, Lt. Reed was a man of action.

He approached T'Pol directly and pinned the Vulcan back against the tiles while locking lips with her, and moments later she pressed the man back in her turn, for T'Pol was painfully aroused, her nipples hard even as other parts of her throbbed, and the Vulcan wasn't looking for foreplay, and she wasn't looking for romance. Malcolm spun T'Pol back against the tiles while hot water ran over them both, his hands cupping her breasts, his mouth working her breasts, and T'Pol actually growled… Her hand reached down and felt the lieutenant's excitement revealed in flesh, and she was pleased, for there was no reluctance in the man, nor hesitation, and none in her.

T'Pol altered her stance somewhat, wrapped her hands round the lieutenant's back and shoulders and lifted herself a bit, and understanding her maneuver, Malcolm helped her by placing practiced hands on the Vulcan to lift her in position, legs astride his torso, and a moment later, T'Pol impaled herself. Malcolm groaned at that, while T'Pol cried out, the sensation immediate and overpowering for them both as the man cleaved her in twain, and then the lieutenant began moving inside T'Pol roughly, driving himself at a feverish pace while pressing T'Pol against the wall. The man was rough with her, which pleased T'Pol to no end, and after less than three minutes of the man's deep thrusts, T'Pol bit down and into the man's shoulder, lest she howl in ecstasy, like a Vulcan of Old, and that bite pushed the man over the top. A dozen more thrusts, each a hammer blow, and then the lieutenant climaxed in his turn, after which he set T'Pol back to her feet.

A bit of time then, to savor the spray of hot water and reclaim their strength, and then T'Pol took the man once more, though he might have believed it to be the other way round, not that such things mattered to T'Pol: only her needs mattered in this cursed state, a state which would have been bliss with a Bonded mate by her side, yet to be fair, the lieutenant had done a capable job of satisfying her physical needs this night, and that was as much as she could hope for from the man, for she'd never once felt the whispers of anything more within the man, no hint of a possible Bond with the lieutenant.

Reflecting back on the encounter later that evening, T'Pol thought Lt. Reed to be a more satisfactory sexual partner than Captain Archer, and about par for the course with a Vulcan.

Not bad at all, thought T'Pol, as she waited for sleep to claim her. Not bad at all.

* * *

"Urunshu kor," said Trip in Vulcan, looking at V'Tesk, his assigned Vulcan assistant.

"Close," said V'Tesk. "Say it like this: urunnnshu kor, Commander Tucker. More emphasis on the n sound"

"Urunshu t'kor," said Trip, stressing the word properly now. "Got it. Thanks."

The two walked in amiable silence through a series of hallways, finally reaching the Shuttle Bay. The Vulcan construction crew had sealed up the Suurok class battlecruiser once the major components had been delivered to the interior of the cruiser, and then pressurized the ship. Now, the less dramatic but still important task began, of finishing the decks and departments, and then moving on to the smaller rooms and such. The finishing process would stretch out another six months or so, but the ship would be serviceable in two weeks, if still very roughly finished, just as Trip's assigned time was scheduled to come to an end.

"Would you like to join Liat, Kovrin and I for lunch, Commander Tucker?" said V'Tesk, finally breaking the silence. "You can practice your Vulcan with us all, and you can tell us about about your rescue of the First Monarch Kaitaama."

"All right," said Trip, "but you've already heard the story."

"Yes, but Liat has not," said V'Tesk, "and she is sure to find it quite fascinating, Commander Tucker."

"All right," said Trip. "I see that what Liat wants, she gets. Clearly, you are attracted to her, no?"

"Oh, you are being illogical, Commander Tucker, and you are mistaken," said V'Tesk, but a slight greenish tint to his cheeks, gave lie to the young Vulcan's words.

"Ohhhhkay," said Trip, after snorting a laugh. "Let's go."

* * *

It was two weeks later to the day, when T'Pol slipped quietly out of the captain's cabin a bit past 2100 hours, and headed directly to her cabin, as she wished to shower, change and eat a bit of something before she made her way to Lt. Reed's cabin at 2400 hours, for she'd been intimately associating with both men since the Enterprise had reached Denobula, and she intended to continue doing so.

A Human might have found her conduct duplicitous, for T'Pol had not informed either man of the other, but T'Pol was a Vulcan, and she was not bound by silly Human conventions. She had needs, and it was only logical to satisfy those needs. In any case, no trouble had come of it. Neither man knew of the other, and Commander Tucker was due to return in two weeks, and T'Pol meant to try the commander out. Hopefully, she would find the man satisfactory, and she could then thank Captain Archer for his assistance, and continue on with Commander Tucker, and perhaps Lt. Reed, until these cursed after effects and symptoms of her first pon'farr should pass, and she should regain control of herself.

T'Pol wondered briefly if Commander Tucker might be able to satisfy her on his own, but the data at hand was insufficient to allow T'Pol to reach any conclusion on the matter. There was no slight intended here with that thought, for none of the Vulcans she'd bedded had managed to accomplish that deed either, though T'Pol had taken three Vulcan lovers since leaving her mother's house for school, and later, during the course of her career, for it was logical to satisfy her body's needs in that fashion until she should be fortunate enough to Bond with a mate.

* * *

Two more weeks had passed, and Trip's tour aboard the T'Lek Sor had come to an end, so he took the occasion to make one last walk through the battlecruiser he'd seen built largely before his eyes, and it was a thing of beauty. Just stunning. Humans could have matched the workmanship, perhaps, but they could never have delivered this big, beautiful ship in such short order.

"I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed my stay here, Volok," said Trip, for Administrator Volok had chosen to accompany the Human commander on his last tour. "I've learned so much from you."

"That is gratifying to hear, Commander," said Volok. "I must say, I have enjoyed having you here. If ever we should have a chance to work together on a project again, make the needed sacrifices to make that happen on your end. We would turn out some impressive ships, working together in service to that end."

"Oh, yes, Volok," said Trip, nodding pleasantly to many of the Vulcans they passed through the halls, even though he'd said his good byes to many of these same Vulcans at a farewell party of sorts last night, though it had been a more solemn gathering than a comparable farewell party among Humans. "As much as I love exploring space, I'd jump at the chance to work here for a few years. I know I've only scratched the surface with what I've seen so far."

"Indeed," said Volok.

They walked on then for another thirty minutes through the various decks and halls, Trip waving occasionally to the Vulcans he'd gotten to know during his stay, making time to speak a few brief words with those who seemed to have something to say in return, but eventually, Trip & Volok made their way to one of the ship yard's Access Hatches where a Vulcan diplomatic runner waited for Trip to board, in preparation for his ride back to the Enterprise.

V'Tesk, Trip's Vulcan assistant waited by this Access Hatch with Trip's duffel bag, and Trip spoke with the young Vulcan, thanking him for his service during his stay, and after the two exchanged courteous farewells, each gave the other the ta'al, the Vulcan hand gesture of salutation, and then Trip turned to Volok.

"I guess this is it, Volok," said Trip.

Volok nodded, and the Vulcan gave Trip the ta'al, then said, "Until we meet again, live long and prosper, Commander Tucker."

Trip solemnly returned the Vulcan's ta'al, and said, "Life, peace and contentment, Administrator Volok. I won't forget you."

Volok gave a slight smile, no more than an uptick at the corners of his mouth, and Trip shouldered his duffel bag and then boarded the diplomatic runner on course for Earth, where the Enterprise was due to show in ten days. It was while still on that flight to Earth, that Trip dug into his duffel bag, to find a small two pound dumbbell which was nothing but a joke in the gym, with a note attached.

The note read: "A light weight, for a lite weight. It was good to have you aboard the T'Lek Sor, Commander Tucker. The Wolfpack."

Trip laughed, for Wolfpack was the name with which he'd christened the half dozen Vulcans he'd trained with each night in unarmed combat during his stay aboard the T'Lek Sor, and he'd found their company… agreeable. He'd miss them. They were friends now.

And though Trip wasn't there to see it, some three weeks later a StarFleet vessel docked with the T'Lek Sor and unloaded fifty vacuum sealed barrels filled to the brim with Mexican hot cocoa mix, and it would be fair to assume that thoughts of hoarding, greed and larceny must surely have crossed Administrator Volok's mind at this unexpected wealth, a gift from a new friend... but after a period of deliberation and purposeful meditation, that Vulcan did the right thing, and shared it with his people.


	8. Chapter 8

— **Chapter 08 —**

* * *

Six days after leaving the T'Lek Sor, the Vulcan diplomatic ship ferrying Trip to Earth assumed orbit around the planet, and shortly thereafter that ship's shuttle delivered Trip to the planet below. An Ensign met Commander Tucker at the landing pad, acting on Admiral Forrest's orders, and she took Trip to the St. Regis, a plush hotel of modern design, in the heart of San Francisco, where Admiral Forrest had made reservations in Trip's name, as a gesture of appreciation for his long work days aboard the T'Lek Sor.

Trip had a four day layover before the Enterprise reached Earth, and though he might have chosen to visit his family, fleet business took precedence now, so Trip spent the next three days being debriefed by a half dozen engineers who wished to personally review the copious technical reports which Trip had filed while aboard the T'Lek Sor, and after each long day of dealing with these engineers came a private meeting with Admiral Forrest during which Trip gave the admiral a condensed version of the things which he'd discussed with the engineers, earlier in the day.

When it was all said and done, Trip had to settle for enjoying just the last day back on Earth in pursuit of his own pleasures, and tired as he was, he spent the entirety of this last day in bed. He watched old reruns of the 2004 - 2009 Battlestar Galactica series, with only four brief breaks to allow the hotel's staff to enter the room in order to deliver three tasty meals, and a whole pumpkin pie as a midnight snack… and all in all, it was a day well spent, so far as Trip was concerned.

* * *

Jon sat up on his bunk, a grin of satisfaction on his face as he watched T'Pol dress after one of their trysts. He was probably being foolish, but he'd always been attracted to T'Pol, no matter his general feelings on Vulcans, and given his recent intimate encounters with T'Pol, it would be fair to say that he was infatuated with the SubCommander now.

"We assumed Earth orbit during the night shift," said Jon. "I'll need to go down to HQ later today."

T'Pol nodded as she slipped into her skin tight uniform, but said nothing.

"If you have to visit your Embassy," said Jon, "leave Reed in charge and go take care of business, with your people."

"Very well," said T'Pol, making some fine adjustments to her uniform.

"Do you want to have lunch with Trip and I?" said Jon.

T'Pol halted in the process of preening her cuff, and said, "Commander Tucker is already here?"

"Yes," said Jon. "He left a message for me sometime yesterday, and it was forwarded to me as soon as we assumed orbit. So, are you coming?"

"I will have to pass on lunch, Captain," said T'Pol.

"Your loss," said Jon. "Trip knows the best restaurants in San Francisco, and he'd be glad to see you, T'Pol."

T'Pol merely nodded at Archer's words, and then said, "I look forward to seeing Commander Tucker, when he returns to the Enterprise."

* * *

The Delak, a Vulcan owned and operated luxury cruiseship was halfway between Risa and Regulus when they made contact with an alien force, and from that point it would be exactly two hours before the Delak was reduced to a burned out wreck, as the alien force made it's presence known by taking out the Delak's engines with purposely underpowered torpedoes, which brought the Delak to a dead stop in space, without destroying the ship.

Three alien ships seemingly materialized off the Delak's starboard side, or at least dispersed some type of cloaking field which had concealed them from the Delak's sensor net, and having run out of options, the captain and crew of the Delak urged every passenger to remain calm, even though they themselves were truly concerned. Had these ships been Orion, well, that would have been bad enough, but Orions generally concerned themselves with loot - but these ships were clearly not Orion.

A half dozen transport shuttles departed these attacking vessels and each one disgorged a dozen soldiers onto the deck of the Delak, for the crew of the Delak knew better than to resist: it would have been illogical. In any case, the boarding parties were disciplined and simply herded the passengers to the open public spaces, then went through those crowds, purposely drawing out a number of Vulcans from the crowd, a hundred or so people out of a manifest of some fifteen hundred passengers, and shipped them back to their ships, waiting for the empty shuttles to return, and as they waited, the Vulcans looked in silent trepidation at the faces, almost Vulcan, of their captors... almost Vulcan, but none of the Vulcans were fooled, for the hard faces showed emotion, and the cold eyes showed contempt as they looked at the Vulcans. For the Vulcans aboard this ship, gazing at the faces of the Rihansu was the same as gazing into Vulcan's past.

When the empty shuttles returned to the Delak, the troopers boarded their shuttles and departed the ship, even as the Delak's Comm officer resumed his broadcast for aid from any passing Vulcan Navy ships, making it clear that his ship had been boarded, and disabled. This appeal for help was a wasted effort, for minutes after the last of the boarding shuttles had returned to their respective ships, the attacking force unleashed a withering salvo of disruptor fire, and three plasma torpedoes which struck the Delak true, and quickly reduced the huge Vulcan ship to a burned out husk, before the Romulan ships cloaked themselves once more, and vacated the scene of the attack.

* * *

"SubCommander," said Hoshi, the Enterprise's Comm officer, "I have a StarFleet shuttle requesting permission to dock with our Access Hatch. I've taken the liberty of giving them leave to dock with the ship, after verifying their transponder signal is true."

"What is going on?" said T'Pol.

"Captain Archer and Commander Tucker are returning to the ship, SubCommander," said Hoshi.

T'Pol looked at Ensign Sato, and said, "You have the conn, Ensign."

"Yes, SubCommander," said Hoshi, pleased at the prospect of command, for under other circumstances she'd have been pretty far down the list of officers to man the conn, but the ship was safely orbiting Earth, and so it was as good a time as any for T'Pol to delegate such authority onto an ensign.

Minutes later, T'Pol reached the Access Hatch, only to find Lt. Reed there already: that was not surprising, for the man was close friends with Commander Tucker. T'Pol nodded casually to the man, and the lieutenant returned the gesture with a barely perceptible nod, and this despite their recent intimate encounters. For a Human, his emotional discipline was admirable.

Some thirty seconds later, the dull thud of metal on metal announced that the shuttle had achieved a magnetic lock to the Enterprise, and two seconds later, a chime indicated that the Access Hatch could be safely opened now, and Lt. Reed did so with practiced ease. Moments later, the door opened and T'Pol took note of the captain, as the man stepped onto the Enterprise, and then she waited, a touch restlessly, for Commander Tucker to make an appearance. She'd missed the man's presence on this ship: she'd missed his humor, she'd missed his support, she even missed the aggravation the man seemed to cause her almost purposely, and while that was illogical, it was still true... so T'Pol waited restlessly to see the man board the ship, yet she waited without displaying any discernible emotion in front of Archer and Reed.

Finally, Commander Tucker made an appearance, and everything changed when he stepped on deck with a smile as fetching as ever, blue eyes twinkling as he looked first at T'Pol, then shifted his attention to Lt. Reed as the lieutenant stepped up to the commander.

"Malcolm!" said Trip, and unexpectedly put the other man in a headlock.

"Let me go, you daft sod," said Malcolm, feigning anger, but laughing nevertheless, "or I'll kill you!"

Commander Tucker did as requested and the two men laughed at each good naturedly, then Trip turned his attention to T'Pol, and said, "Good to see you, T'Pol."

"Indeed," said T'Pol.

"Ugh," said Trip, a grin on his face. "That's it? I was expecting you to throw yourself in my arms, and plead that I never leave your side again, but all I get is an 'Indeed'."

"I had forgotten how tiresome you can be at times, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, though she could not help but note how fit and dashing a figure the commander struck in his well-fitting civilian clothes, "although I will grant you that the ship's operations will benefit by your presence."

"That's as good as I can hope for from a Vulcan, I suppose," said Trip, a shit eating grin on his face, "but you could at least say that you've missed me."

T'Pol did a subtle roll of her eyes, breathed a tortured sigh, and said, "Fine, fine, Commander Tucker. I have missed you."

"I knew it!" said Trip, seemingly pleased by T'Pol's forced admission.

T'Pol sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and middle finger as if already exasperated beyond control, and Archer laughed that that… trust Trip to drive a Vulcan to despair.

But in truth, with Commander Tucker standing well within her reach, the Vulcan could not help but take notice of how the man's presence brightened her day, and she could not help but take note of how strong the wave of desire which had gripped her the moment she'd set eyes on commander Tucker once more. She would have to act on her desire, soon.

* * *

Some eighteen hours after the fatal attack on the cruise liner Delak, the Vulcan battlecruisers Hevrok and Sillik, reached the site of the attack in response to the last plea of help from that doomed ship, but the Vulcan cruisers arrived to find only death and the burned out wreck of a ship. The Delak was barely recognizable as a Vulcan ship now, and scanners found nothing but corpses within the remains of the ship, as well as without, and the shuttle crews of both cruisers began the grisly task of collecting Vulcan corpses drifting through the void of space, all in anticipation of the troop carrier which was en route here now to take possession of them all, in order to ferry them back to Vulcan for the orderly dispersal of those bodies back to their families.

Meanwhile, as that grisly task was being conducted by the shuttle crews, the Vulcan Science crews conducted as thorough an investigation as possible given the circumstances. But a few things were apparent right from the start, and confirmed by the Science departments of both ships quite quickly, after a thorough scan of the wreckage: the weapons damage was cause by disruptor fire, and plasma torpedoes.

"So?" said Kovek, captain of the Hevrok, while looking at the image of his counterpart, T'Kes on the Sillik.

"Klingons use disruptors," said T'Kes. "But…"

"But this was not their handiwork," said Kovek. "There's no honor in killing defenseless civilians."

"Well, this was not done by Orions," said T'Kes.

Kovek nodded his understanding: Orions took slaves, they didn't kill them. There was no profit in corpses. Kovek and T'Kes made eye contact now, and it was clear they were both thinking along the same lines as to the identity of the attackers.


	9. Chapter 9

— **Chapter 09 —**

* * *

The first day back aboard the Enterprise felt wonderful to Trip. The ship was home to him in a very real way and it was good to be back here, though the Enterprise also felt somewhat cramped compared to the spaciousness he'd become accustomed to while serving on T'Lek Sor. More so, Trip missed the presence of some of the Vulcans he'd gotten to know quite well during his away mission, and that was unexpected.

In any case, the first order of business was to swing by Engineering, and once there Trip found the situation to be something of a mixed bag. Kelby had done a good job of it overall, but some things had been pushed aside and neglected, things which should have been attended to properly as a matter of course. It was alright, Kelby was young, but he'd best learn to do things right if he ever wanted to make Chief Engineer.

Time flew quickly through the day as Trip settled in to get things squared away, working his way through lunch and meaning to skip dinner, until Jon called Engineering, asking that Trip to join him and T'Pol for dinner at 1900 hours, and when Trip tried to beg off, Archer made it an order.

"Hey," said Trip, slipping into the Captain's Mess five minutes past the appointed time.

"Trip!" said Jon, smiling in pleasure at having his good friend back on his ship, and at his table. "It's so good to have you back, man!"

"Right back at you, big guy," said Trip, taking his usual seat and giving T'Pol a pleasant smile.

"Commander," said T'Pol.

Just then the captain's steward entered the room. He'd already taken drink orders for the captain and T'Pol, so the man smiled at Trip, and said, "It's good to see you again, Commander Tucker."

"Likewise, Mark," said Trip. "How's the wife?"

"She's good, Commander," said Mark. "She's in her third trimester now."

"Good. Did you ever figure out who the baby daddy?" said Trip, as pokerfaced as T'Pol now.

Mark laughed and said, "It better not be you, or I'll kill you! What would you like to wet your whistle, Commander?"

"I'll take a beer, please," said Trip.

"Yes, Commander," said the steward, and returned a few moments later with a chilled mug and a bottle of beer.

"Thanks, Mark," said Trip. "What is Chef willing to cook for us tonight?"

"I'm afraid that Chef is on a Moroccan kick, and he's cooked a welcome back dinner for you, Commander," said Mark. "So you're all eating North African tonight, unless you're willing to piss Chef off. That would be unwise."

"Moroccan sounds great," said Trip, and then looked round the table.

T'Pol said, "I've made some discreet inquiries today, Commander Tucker, and it seems that you've done quite well for yourself on T'Lek Sor. In fact all the Humans selected for away missions on Vulcan ships or installations did well. The scuttlebutt is that your collective behavior was encouraging enough that some discussions are taking place on expanding the integration of our ranks to a greater degree. So you may see some Humans serving in the Vulcan Navy, and more Vulcans in StarFleet."

"Oh, lord, save me from that," said Trip, and T'Pol frowned at Trip on hearing that. "I only meant that I have my hands full in dealing with you, T'Pol. I don't know if I can deal with another Vulcan aboard this ship."

Archer laughed at that, but said nothing, watching T'Pol for her comeback.

T'Pol indeed had an opinion on the commander's sentiments, and said, "Nonsense, Commander Tucker. You've dealt with thousands of Vulcans for the past two months, without any apparent difficulties. Now let us hear no more of this sort of talk from you. It is unbecoming."

"All right," said Trip, hanging his head in what he imagined was a repentant pose after first winking at Archer, and it seemed appropriate enough to satisfy T'Pol.

Just then, Mark returned with three appetizer plates: three grilled Mission figs on each plate, halved and stuffed with mint, parsley, goat cheese and honey, then wrapped in pancetta for the Humans, left meatless for T'Pol. Three deep fried falafel balls drizzled with a spicy yogurt sauce, a grated carrot and apple salad, dressed with green olives, shredded cilantro, cumin, lemon juice and a touch of olive oil, and lastly, some rich and fragrant eggplant, seasoned and baked to perfection in a rich tomato sauce. The diners buried their faces in the appetizers without further ado, and even the normally picky T'Pol seemed well satisfied with the meal, so far.

Once finished with that starter, Archer found his voice again.

"We're heading back for Vulcan two days from now," said Archer, "and we're taking ten Delus class ships with us, under my command."

The Delus class was a smaller ship than the NX class, mainly suitable for in-system use and short out-system missions, but lacking the space, food stores, and more than the basic comforts needed to make it a true long distance ship. Still, it was a useful ship class, in both war and peace, and much faster to build than the NX class.

"Really?" said Trip. "Why?"

"We're war gaming with the Vulcan Navy," said Archer, looking meaningfully round the table: he had his own ideas on the reasons for it all.

"Well, we might as well get some practice in, before things pop off," said Trip, thoughtfully.

"Indeed," said T'Pol, for her logic had already led her to the same conclusions.

"Well I like the Delus class for a combat situation," said Trip, giving his professional opinion. "It's analogous to a naval destroyer. Agile, fast enough, and tough enough to be a nightmare in packs, a good scout ship, a good support vessel. With this Vulcan technical data we've been getting, we add more powerful engines, which means more powerful weapons, and now we have shields as well, courtesy of our pointy eared allies, and the Delus will strike above it's weight class."

"StarFleet thinks the same," said Archer. "They're ramping up production of the Delus, as well as pushing for a rapid construction of three more NX class ships, and they've slotted in production of something between the Delus and the NX to go into production this year, they're just deciding between two models with some good merits on either side."

Just then, Mark returned with a baked lamb shank atop a bed of couscous for each Human, the couscous liberally seasoned with fresh herbs and sweetened by the addition of dried apricots. For T'Pol, Mark had some sautéed fennel with almonds, golden raisins, and saffron, as well as a vegetable couscous and a bowl of spicy chickpeas, and all this with a large basket of warm flatbreads for them all to share. Once the food was delivered, only the sounds of satisfaction reigned supreme for the next twenty minutes.

Dessert was a large square portion of a rum soaked, orange flavored cake, topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with cardamom, and three chopped dried dates, and all that washed down with a premium grade of loose leaf Ceylon tea, sprinkled with cardamom and sweetened with honey.

At the conclusion of the meal, everyone asked Mark to relay their gratitude to Chef for a true feast and shortly afterward they found themselves alone once more. They spent the next two hours catching up, before Trip excused himself, leaving Jon & T'Pol alone in the Captain's Mess.

"Would you like to go back to my quarters," said Archer, looking at T'Pol, "and get cozy for the evening?"

"Not tonight, Captain," said T'Pol. "I need to meditate."

"Of course," said Archer, knowing the importance of mental balance for his first officer. "Coffee?"

"No, thank you, Captain. It was a wonderful meal," said T'Pol, and took her leave of the captain.

Shortly after leaving the captain, T'Pol found herself in front of Commander Tucker's quarters in contradiction to her stated need for meditation, for she'd taken the trouble to check with the computer, and she knew that Commander Tucker was at home, so to speak.

"Ah, T'Pol," said Trip, when he answered the door. "Come in."

"Thank you," said T'Pol.

She stepped into Commander Tucker's cabin, her eyes hungrily running over the man's torso, as he'd answered the door topless, his coverall uniform top lowered to his hips, sleeves tied round his waist as something of a belt. Despite herself, T'Pol could not help but stare, as the man was in excellent physical condition, and she suspected that he'd channeled some of his boundless energy while aboard the T'Lek Sor into physical activities.

"T'Pol?" said Trip, a slight smile on his face: he'd caught T'Pol checking him out.

"Am I interrupting you, Commander?"

"No. I spilled some of that yummy mushroom & lamb gravy on my t-shirt, and came here to change, or else I'll be thinking about that juicy Australian lamb all night long," said Trip. "So, what's up?"

Hoping to spare herself another embarrassing monologue about a Vulcan's heightened physical needs following a pon'farr cycle, T'Pol took the direct approach, and despite her apparent inability to restrain her eyes from roaming the man's torso, even at the cost of the commander's open amusement, T'Pol dived on in anyway.

"During your absence," said T'Pol, her keen sense of smell inflamed by the man's agreeable scent, "I have realized that I am physically drawn to you, Commander Tucker, and I hoped that we might have sexual intercourse. Now."

"You're kidding," said Trip, the beginnings of a grin on his face.

"I assure you that I am not kidding," said T'Pol. "I need you, Trip."

That statement drew an odd gaze from Commander Tucker.

"Take a seat, T'Pol," said Trip, and gestured that the Vulcan should find a seat on his bunk.

T'Pol did as instructed while Trip grabbed the chair by his desk, and set it in front of T'Pol, and then he took a seat facing the Vulcan.

"All right," said Trip. "What's going on, T'Pol? I left the ship two months ago and up to then we'd never had any kind of intimate contact, and now you want to have sex with me tonight. Now. So what's up with you?"

"The explanation is kind of protracted, Comman—"

"Is it the pon'farr?"

T'Pol was a bit surprised that Commander Tucker knew of the pon'farr, and said, "How do you know of the pon'farr, Commander Tucker?"

"I witnessed the beginnings of it in two Vulcans while aboard the T'Lek Sor," said Trip, "and their actions were unusual enough that some explanation was warranted, apparently. I was telling Administrator Volok that there was an illness aboard the T'Lek Sor, that we had to take measures—"

"I see. Well, that makes things easier to explain," said T'Pol, and proceeded to give Commander Tucker those explanations.

"Ok," said Trip. "Now that makes sense, T'Pol. But you dodged the pon'farr, right? Jon told me about it, and it sounds like Phlox saved your bacon."

"Yes, he spared me the worst of it," said T'Pol, "but apparently I'm still driven by my desires to mate."

"But those impulses are controllable?" said Trip.

"Yes," said T'Pol, declining to go to the heart of the matter and explain precisely how those impulses were controlled, through the physical release she found with captain Archer and lieutenant Reed, and declining also to state that she hoped to add Commander Tucker to the roster.

"Ok, listen," said Trip, "I have to go back to Engineering now. My men are expecting me, and I'm needed in Tactical later. I have orders to see this ship ready for battle before we leave Earth for Vulcan, T'Pol, which means I need to get back to Engineering, and afterward I have to meet with Malcolm and review the changes made to my power systems by the need to power those Denobulan weapon batteries. If we're going to do it, let's do it right, without watching the clock, or being interrupted every five minutes by my crew calling me for clarification on any of a thousand issues."

"Very well," said T'Pol, somewhat reassured at the thought that it was only duty which prevented Commander Tucker from acting on her offer. "Another time then, Commander Tucker."

"Oh yes, T'Pol," said Trip, rising to his feet along with T'Pol, and making eye contact with the Vulcan.

He leaned in then and kissed T'Pol, taking his time to savor the kiss, and after a bit the restrained Vulcan melted into his embrace, her body pressed against Trip's, her mouth soft, her kiss deep, her whimpers quite cute. Just then the comm unit sounded.

"Kelby to Commander Tucker."

Trip regretfully pulled back, and looked T'Pol in the eye, before reluctantly breaking contact with her to walk towards the comm unit.

"Tucker here."

"You asked me to notify you when we're ready, Commander," said Kelby. "We're good to go."

"I'll be right there," said Trip, then severed the connection.

"I will go," said T'Pol.

Trip nodded regretfully, though he grasped hold of T'Pol's bicep as she moved past him and pulled her close, and then kissed her thoroughly once more before T'Pol nodded and left his cabin. Yet, though T'Pol had left him, Trip's heart was dancing, and he couldn't help but look forward with anticipation, to their soon to come intimate encounter. For her part, T'Pol made her departure with a sigh.

It will be Archer tonight, thought T'Pol, and despite the man's competence T'Pol was disappointed, for she'd truly wished to mate with Commander Tucker this night.


	10. Chapter 10

**— Chapter 10 —**

* * *

Two days later, right on schedule, the Enterprise led a squadron of ten Delus ships on a transit flight from Earth to Vulcan, with Archer in command of the squadron, which was fitting enough: the man had more real world experience in dealing with difficult situations outside the Sol system, more so than any other captain in Starfleet.

On her own, the Enterprise could make the journey from Earth to Vulcan in four days at Warp 5, but the lesser top-end speed of the Delus class meant that the squadron would take six days to reach Vulcan, and these six days were the last chance for the various crews to rest before the longer days and posture of higher readiness which would be required of all crews during the war games with the Vulcan Navy.

It was during the first day of their transit flight, in the Mess Hall of all places, that T'Pol purposely argued with Commander Tucker over the eventual integration of Vulcan shields with the Enterprises' powers systems, for every Human ship in this squadron would undergo this vital upgrade at the end of these war games, in Vulcan shipyards, courtesy of the High Command. It was a whopper of an argument too, between the commander & T'Pol, a thing of clipped words and sarcastic comments from the Vulcan, and an infuriating smugness and a shit eating grin on the commander's side, both of which seemed tailor made to annoy the Vulcan… that is, if she could even feel such emotions, for T'Pol had denied many times before, that she could ever experience such petty emotions.

Eventually, all good things must end, and that happened with this delightful argument as well, to the great disappointment of the crewmen seated closely enough to eavesdrop on the two verbal combatants, and it ended when T'Pol had said, "Vulcan technology is quite intricate, Commander Tucker. We will discuss this matter once again this evening, once you've had a chance to calm down and reflect on merits of my approach."

"Fine by me," had said Commander Tucker, and T'Pol was pleased, for she now had more than enough cover to see the man later that evening. "It's not a crime to be ignorant of what goes on in Engineering, SubCommander, but you should allow yourself to be guided by my expertise. Let me know when you're ready to discuss things rationally."

"When I'm ready to discuss things rationally?" had said T'Pol, inwardly annoyed at being accused of irrationality by this most irrational of all Humans, and with that she'd stood and left the Mess Hall with the grace of a swan: a swan seething at being accused of irrationality, no matter how graceful and unruffled an exit she made, but at least her goal had been accomplished: there were few secrets aboard a ship, and with this little bit of theater she'd cleared the way for spending time with Commander Tucker at will, under the guise of tutoring the man in the intricacies of Vulcan technology, without fear of the crew wagging their tongues over the matter.

* * *

"So I understand you and T'Pol disagree on the proper approach to integrating Vulcan shields with our ship's power systems," said Archer later that day, while facing Trip across his desk in the Ready Room.

"Listen, forget about T'Pol," said Trip. "I'm the ship's Chief Engineer, and I've just installed Vulcan shield emitters in the hull of one of their premiere new battlecruisers, so I'm telling you that she's wrong, all right?"

"You got it," said Jon, holding his hands up in a gesture meant to placate Trip, knowing better than to question the man's competence: he'd fought too hard to get Trip aboard his ship, when StarFleet had wanted to keep Trip back on Earth in their Research & Development Division. "It's your call."

"You're damned right it is," said Trip, viciously biting into a cinnamon roll, and well satisfied with the captain's support as well as the purpose behind that public argument, for Trip knew that T'Pol meant to use their dispute as cover for their get together this evening, though it seemed an unnecessary ruse: stealth would have accomplished the same ends with less trouble.

"All I'm saying, Trip," said Jon, "is that you just boarded the Enterprise, and you and T'Pol are already going at it."

"So what? Listen, it's not my fault. You know Polly, she's a royal pain in the ass and I'm not going to cater to—" said Trip, interrupting his tirade only when he took notice of Jon laughing. "What?"

"You called her Polly," said Jon, still laughing.

"Yeah," said Trip, "I guess I did, and maybe I'll keep doing it, cause I like it. It turns me on."

"Me too," said Jon.

* * *

"Hold! Please hold the elevator!"

Kessa pressed the proper button and the elevator doors reversed direction, opening silently to allow a couple to board the elevator, and to Kessa's surprise, they were both Vulcans, as she herself. Vulcans were here on Earth in fairly large numbers in quite a number of cities, San Francisco being one of them since that the city was the location of StarFleet's HQ infrastructure, but even so, Kessa was not used to running into a fellow Vulcans during the dull routines of her day. In any case, this was her first encounter with one of her kind at this particular shopping mall.

The Vulcan couple each took a moment to nod their gratitude to Kessa, as the elevator doors closed once more.

"What level?" said Kessa, finger hovering over the buttons which would deliver them all to their proper parking lot levels, in the multi-storied garage.

"Level five, please," said the Vulcan female in response to Kessa's question.

Kessa pressed the button, and then looked directly ahead, but the Vulcan female studied Kessa intently, and sensing her attention, Kessa turned slightly to make eye contact with her.

"Forgive me," said the Vulcan female. "I did not mean to be rude, but you seemed familiar. You are Kessa, no? Attached to the Agricultural Trade detachment at our embassy."

"Yes," said Kessa, for she was quite competent to discuss such things, though that identity was just a cover: she was actually an intelligence analyst, tasked to Earth to make certain that any problems which might affect relations between Earth and Vulcan might be discovered early on, and resolved successfully. "And you are?"

"Lifi," said the Vulcan female. "I work in the IT department. Just started a few weeks ago, actually. It is not an glamorous job, but it is-"

"An important one," said Kessa. "What you do is valuable, Lifi."

Lifi was about to reply, but then her companion's comm unit buzzed, and the man moved to answer the unit's electronic summons, with a soft, "Apologies" which drew Kessa's attention to the man, for it was the first word he'd spoken.

Just then Lifi slammed her forehead into Kessa, stunning the Vulcan for a moment, just as the male brought his comm unit to make contact with Kessa's torso, and revealed that comm unit to actually be a stunner which quickly robbed Kessa of consciousness. The male Vulcan swiftly grabbed hold of Kessa in order to keep her from collapsing to the floor, and then addressed the Vulcan female, and he did so in a strange tongue.

A Vulcan linguist would have recognized that the roots of this strange language were to be found in Old Vulcan, and he would have realized that this language had aged along a different path than modern Vulcan, almost as if these people had split off from Old Vulcan and had gone their own way since then, the Old Vulcan tongue long isolated from the main stream and remaining a unique dialect, and after hundreds and thousands of years, becoming a unique and different language, just as on Earth you might have unique languages like Portuguese and Romanian, yet both with roots in Latin.

"Sha'lia telfor e'alors, Rhizen," said the male, tossing Kessa over his shoulder: "Scout the way, Rhizen."

"Je'let, Kelfor," said Rhizen, Lifi's true name: "I will, Kelfor."

Just then the elevator door opened, and Rhizen stepped out. Nothing and no one stood out to Rhizen, save for the third member of their team, who had waited alertly, and now backed the vehicle he was driving right up to the elevator door. It took just seconds for Kelfor to toss Kessa into the back of the van, after which the two 'Vulcans' jumped in behind her, and the van made a speedy exit from the parking garage.

Hours after Kessa's abduction, that same parking garage swarmed with security personnel, both Human and Vulcan, all looking for the slightest bit of evidence, while others of their vocation first viewed the security footage, and then departed, taking that security footage with them. Not that any of it helped Kessa now. Worst of all, she had not been the only kidnapping victim. Within half an hour of Kessa's kidnapping, some 82 Vulcans of some importance had been kidnapped from various places across the face of the Earth, and another 191 assassinated, many of them publicly. Nothing, not even Vulcan discretion could keep this silent, though the numbers were concealed to great extent… still, the Human press would loudly demand answers in the coming days, until suddenly, they all came out with similar pat stories to lay the matter to rest, and though many Humans were not buying the abrupt change in tone for they were already cynical of the media, the Vulcans weren't talking, and neither were the various police departments, so there wasn't a whole lot to go on at this time.

* * *

Later that day, round 1500 hours, T'Pol caught Trip's eye from her station as the man left the captain's Ready Room, and sensing that she wanted to have a word with him, Trip swung by the Science station on the Bridge

"What's up, T'Pol?"

"I was just wondering if you might be willing to calmly discuss the matter of integrating Vulcan shields generators into the Enterprise, this evening," said T'Pol.

T'Pol knew that Hoshi, the ship's gossip queen, would hear her request of Commander Tucker from the Comm station, but the ensign would be well informed by her various spies by now, and she would know that it was a technical matter which required that she & Commander Tucker hammer this out, even if it took all night.

"Sure, T'Pol," said Trip.

"Swing by my quarters then, Commander," said T'Pol. "I have some schematics on my computer which you might find pertinent to our discussion."

"Ok," said Trip. "1900 hours?"

"That is agreeable," said T'Pol, "and bring a pot of coffee. We are not ending our conversation until you have reviewed all of the data, no matter how long it takes you to see the light of reason."

"You got it, SubCommander," said Trip, amused by T'Pol's theatrics, though they were nicely executed.

With four hours to kill before his 'discussion' with T'Pol, Trip swung by Engineering, turned things over to Kelby, then took a sauna, a shower, and a nap, and then finally he gobbled up a hot fudge brownie, and drank two espresso cups of coffee, all in preparation for the yeoman's work he'd agreed to tackle this evening.

That last hour of waiting was the longest, the worst, and Trip was reduced to watching the clock 'till the appointed time, and then a few minutes past that time, as he didn't want to show up embarrassingly early, but eventually, his time had come. A last breath check, a look in the mirror, finger pistols aimed at the mirror as Trip winked at his own image like a dork, and then he was off to the races, scooping up a thermos he'd picked up from the Mess Hall, and which he'd already filled with something other than coffee.


	11. Chapter 11

**— Chapter 11 —**

* * *

Precisely ten minutes past 1900 hours, the computer announced a visitor to T'Pol's cabin.

"Enter," said T'Pol, and Commander Tucker stepped into her quarters, two cups and an insulated coffee pot in hand.

"It is too late for you to be drinking that much coffee, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, a slight frown of disapproval on her face. "You know it keeps you up at night."

"Relax," said Trip. "It's filled with a delightful rum concoction for us to share, but I couldn't very well be seen coming here with a bottle of booze, a riding crop and a pair of handcuffs."

T'Pol passed over the crop and handcuffs, and said, "Vulcans do not need alcohol in order to initiate physical relations. I will pass."

"I made it just for us and you'll need it, between bouts, to cool off," said Trip. "You'll have some."

"If you insist," said T'Pol, giving a slight roll of her eyes.

"I do, T'Pol. Anyway, I planned of making a night of it all, so I already had a brownie and two espresso shots before coming here. I'm flying high!"

"I see," said T'Pol, and then the Vulcan took a moment here to secure her door manually, and alter the comm settings: no one would be disturbing them now, save in case of a true emergency, where her comm unit's privacy settings would be ignored.

"You look very cute, T'Pol," said Trip, taking note of T'Pol's silk pajamas, which hugged her figure and flattered it in the process, and yet still concealed her body from his gaze, "if a bit overdressed for the occasion."

"I could say the same of you, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, a cool look of challenge in her eyes. "So, shall we do this?"

She placed her hands on the top button of her pajamas, waiting for Commander Tucker's agreement.

"Why not?" said Trip, a slight grin on his face.

The man's playful attitude was a refreshing change for T'Pol, somewhere between Archer's reverent air of worship for her body and Reed's all business approach, although Reed's brisk approach had been gratifying: it had allowed T'Pol to quench her desires all the quicker without the pointless social games so necessary to Humans, and better yet, the lieutenant had possessed enviable skills. Still, Commander Tucker's approach was an interesting gambit.

T'Pol began unbuttoning her pajama top then, and Commander Tucker began slipping out of his coverall uniform, the two maintaining eye contact the entire time, the only change being that T'Pol raised a brow, and Commander Tucker's grin widened a bit, after her pajama top came off and fluttered to the floor, revealing a magnificent pair of breasts in the process.

"Oh," said Trip, placing hand on heart. "Call Phlox. I'm in trouble, T'Pol."

Moments later the man's own shirt came off, and it was no surprise that Commander Tucker's chest was just as agreeable to T'Pol, as the sight of her breasts had been to him, and then T'Pol placed her hands on her pajama bottoms, and looked meaningfully at Commander Tucker.

"Right," said Trip, and placed hands on his boxers. "On three. Three!"

A moment later the two stood nude before the other, separated by a distance of some four feet, each one's eyes caressing the other's body. It could safely be surmised that T'Pol was satisfied with what she saw, for she had a satisfied look on her face, understated though it was. There was no need to surmise anything where Trip was concerned, for his excitement was, ah… visibly apparent, and when T'Pol closed distance with Trip and locked lips with the man, his excitement pressed against her belly, only adding to T'Pol's desires.

"I bet you never thought you'd be doing this with a Human, eh?" said Trip, when he finally broke their kiss.

T'Pol said nothing to that statement though she felt her cheeks color, and she stifled an illogical impulse to address the question. Instead, she tried to kiss Trip then, but the man pulled back.

"I wonder if Soval would approve?" said Trip. "On the one hand it would foster a fraternal attitude between out two peoples, but on the oth—"

"Enough!" said T'Pol, a handful of Trip's hair in her grip now, forcing the man to meet her eyes in order to make her point, for her passions had been inflamed by Trip's kiss, and she'd had enough of his games.

T'Pol's heart pounded as Trip drew even closer, and a moment later she gasped as his hands gripped her hips, pressing her firmly back against the wall. Before she could catch her breath again, he kissed her, and it was a revelation. Unlike their first kiss a few days earlier, this one was fervent and thorough, awakening every part of T'Pol's body. She recovered herself just long enough to return the kiss every bit as passionately, soon losing herself in an ocean of sensation. With Archer, and with Reed, there had been pleasure, yes, but nothing like these waves of bliss and desire which eroded the last of her control. She trembled as his left hand cupped her breast, twisting its tender summit into a perfect fusion of pleasure and pain, and then his other hand reached between her legs, stroking her roughly. T'Pol's cheeks burned as she felt the resultant moisture, but soon enough the pleasure washed away even this last bit of restraint, and she crested on a wave of pleasure, and with that, T'Pol could wait no longer.

She pushed Trip towards her bed, but even as she forced him backwards, he pivoted smoothly and T'Pol found herself seated on the bunk, unsure quite how, and barely caring as she looked up into his dancing eyes, both of them breathing heavily now, and almost in synchronicity. As if with a will of its own, T'Pols hand slid to the moisture between her legs, and Trip smiled impishly down at her, even as she keened and whimpered, parting the petals of her core. Her fingers would not do though, not now, not with him standing there, smiling, watching, his intoxicating scent swirling around her. Unable to tear her busy hand away from herself, T'Pol reached out with the other and grasped that most intimate part of him, cupping the heavy solid base and gliding her fingers along the handsomely proportioned shaft, torn for just a moment between wonder and need.

Then need won over and she drew the man to her, sliding her lips down his belly to the weight in her hand. At first, her touch was light and delicate, teasing the man with her lips and tongue, seeking to draw from him a greater passion, one that would match her own. After a few long minutes of tantalization, T'Pol's hands took over the work of her mouth, as she drew her head back to seek the mans eyes. With an overwhelming rush of pleasure, she saw that the man's impudent grin had faded, his lips now set as she had never seen them before. His eyes held no amusement now, they held something better, something harder: arousal.

Thrilled at his awakening fire, T'Pol's lips and tongue resumed their thirsty work of pleasing Trip, drawing out a moan from him, and then a plea to stop tormenting him. She rewarded that plea by drawing him further into herself, slowly swallowing, velvet shaft passed velvet tongue and plunged to ever deeper depths. With her hunger both sated and intensified, T'Pol's free hand drifted over her swollen breasts which gently oscillated now as she moved, and then the hand wandered further, returning to her own sex, gently caressing herself in order to keep her arousal in concert with his, to keep the rhythms of their pleasure aligned.

After a time, a blessedly wonderful time in which T'Pol wished that she could dwell forever, she sensed a change in him. She looked up at Trip, even as the man curled his fingers gently through her hair and drew her back from his body, his eyes tumbling over her, his lips slightly parted. Then Trip gestured subtly with his head, his chin lifting an inch, and T'Pol instinctively pulled back, climbed into the bunk and moved backwards to allow Trip to join her.

T'Pol intended to mount Trip as she had Archer and Reed, and made to guide him to his back, but the man made soft sound with his tongue, and T'Pol held back, intending to discern the Commander's intent, but there was no need to try too hard at that, for the commander took the freedom to reposition her body, and moments later, T'Pol found herself on her back, Commander Tucker atop her. He began to explore her body then, leisurely, first spoiling her with a slow, breath-stealing kiss, and then beginning to tour the rest of her body with his mouth, lingering over the taste of her breasts, the firm swelling of her nibbles and laying a path of kisses down the length of her trembling stomach.

"Kov'ada, Trip," said T'Pol, looking down at Trip, and running her fingers through his hair. "Kov'ada, llatur."

She was not expecting a response to her words from Trip, but T'Pol noted him smiling as he moved lower still, as if he had actually understood those words. A ridiculous notion! Vulcan was a notoriously difficult language to learn, and two months aboard a Vulcan installation not enough time to learn anything more than some rote phrases and responses. Still, her meaning must have been obvious, to have summoned the commander's wolfish grin. And that word, llatur, my love. She had not used such words of endearment with either Archer, or Reed…

But even as T'Pol floundered for an explanation, Trip cupped the smooth curves of her buttocks with his calloused hands and drew her sex to his mouth. An epiphany of pleasure shattered T'Pol's concentration and all thought was lost to ecstasy. Drifting in endless sensation, writhing slowly as her lover caressed her flesh with lips, tongue and hand, T'Pol moaned, panted and whimpered. It ended at last, as all things must, but to T'Pol's delight, better things followed. Trip glided forward, moving between her thighs, lifting one of her legs, his lips gently brushing its calf. A moment later he drew closer and T'Pol raised her arms to greet him. She ran her hands along his hard and muscular body, and she pictured how hard he must have trained on the T'Lek Sor, she imagined him doing so, his face flushed with effort, the contours of his muscles sheen with sweat.

Even that intoxicating thought melted from her mind though, when the man's hand cupped her breasts, his calloused fingers and palm pressing into them with thrilling pressure. Archer had held her body as if she were spun glass, and while Reed had been diligent, he had been somehow perfunctory, as if preoccupied by some other matter. This was different. She had no doubt that at this moment Commander Tucker's entire focus revolved around her, just as her's was wrapped around him. She knew he would wring every possible drop of pleasure from her and the realization all but drowned her in desire.

"Please," T'Pol gasped, for she was on the brink. She could bear no more of this excruciating pleasure, filled... completed. NOW. "Trip, don't torture me. Please!"

Fleetingly, the man's grin returned. But T'Pol was not disheartened for even as it did, the man positioned himself, ready, and T'Pol luxuriated, arching her back in anticipation, and yet he paused once more. T'Pol, her body all but screaming, pleaded once more.

"Trip!"

Then it came. She gasped as he entered her core, the smooth motion of a sword, or a piston, a heavy bar of steel. T'Pol's eyes shot as wide open as they had ever been, in pure astonishment at the unity which she now felt with this man, with him, with Trip. She cried out wildly, and Trip drew back then lunged once more, and again and again, and T'Pol was one with infinity, and one with him.

"How you doing, baby?" said Trip. "You doing all right."

T'Pol gulped, and dizzily nodded her head.

"You ready for the rest of it?" said Trip.

"There is more?" said T'Pol, torn between blessing her good luck, and a profound trepidation.

"Oh, yeah, baby," said Trip, reaching down to gently, and fondly, caress T'Pol's left ear with a smooth pressure which expertly applied. "What you're holding now is just the tip of the spear, so to speak."

T'Pol would have actually laughed at that ridiculous claim, but then Trip pressed himself within her, and her intended laughter was replaced by pleasure, and then he began moving smoothly and forcefully within T'Pol, and her arms reached out in embrace, clinging to the man who was now everything to her. Together they moved in twin euphoria, enveloped and enveloping, filled and embraced. Faster and stronger in profound sacred rhythms, they moved, T'Pol spiraling ever higher, to undreamed heights of rapture, and at last with her eventual climax, waves of thought rode on waves of pleasure.

Never this! thought T'Pol. Never before! Never with anyone else!

How long it all lasted, T'Pol was uncertain for she'd been drifting in a delicious timeless void, but even when subject to this sweetest torture, she heard the man's ragged breathing and knew that he was drawing close to his peak as well, and she yearned to repay him, to earn the ecstasy he'd given her. So she pulled back from pure sensation and moved with this purpose, only this purpose, grasping him as tightly as she could while moving beneath him, and when he found that last crest of the wave, she did the same and they plunged together in a last perfect flurry of movement and that moment seemingly lasted forever for them both, before Commander Tucker fell beside her, pleasantly exhausted.

Then the most interesting thing happened, something which had never happened to T'Pol with any of her previous mates, when Commander Tucker began laughing. Not a slight laugh, not an amused laugh, just a loud, joyful laugh, which pleased T'Pol to no end, illogical as she found the reaction. Given the commander's unusual end to their first mating, T'Pol was uncertain what to expect next, but there was no trace of uncertainty in Commander Tucker, and the man made use of her, or she of him, depending on how one kept track of such things until 0500 hours, just an hour before they'd normally wake in order to begin their day.

"You must leave," said T'Pol, her head resting on Trip's shoulder and their limbs entwined with the other's, as she'd just taken notice of the time displayed by the alarm clock. "The day shift will be up and about soon enough, and it would be best if you were not spotted leaving my quarters."

Trip grunted and T'Pol took that for the commander's agreement with her statement, yet when she moved to disentangle herself from the man and stand to her feet, in order to encourage him to do the same, the man restrained her.

"Not yet," said Trip. "A few more minutes."

"You must go, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, trying to squirm her way free, and failing, for Commander Tucker tightened his hold on her with arms & legs.

"I said a few more minutes," said Trip, reluctant to end this night.

"Fine. Just a few more," said T'Pol reluctantly, though in truth she would have liked nothing more than to fall asleep in Trip's arms: odd that, for she had not felt this same desire to hang about afterward, with either Archer, or Reed, nor with her previous Vulcan lovers.

Trip nodded at that, glad to squeeze that concession from T'Pol, and the two savored another fifteen minutes of snuggling in bed together, before T'Pol tried to evacuate the bed once more, and this time Trip allowed her to rise, and he did the same, dressing briskly soon after.

"Yes, well," said T'Pol, standing before Trip in something close to her 'at attention' pose, as the man made some final adjustments to his uniform, "I found our shared time together quite… agreeable, Commander Tucker."

"I agree with your agreeably agreeable assessment of our agreeable night, SubCommander," said Trip, and T'Pol knew he'd chosen his words to tease her.

T'Pol was about to respond, but before she could say a thing, the man reached out to her, drew her close, and kissed her quite thoroughly.

"Carry on, SubCommander," said Trip, even though strictly speaking, it was not for him to give orders to his superior: still, T'Pol gave the man a nod, and he then left her quarters a few moments later, after stealing one last peck from T'pol.

With Trip gone, T'Pol jumped back into bed and wrapped the blankets round her now, and then buried her face in the pillow, losing herself in her mate's scent, and breathlessly reliving the previous night's course of events.


	12. Chapter 12

— **Chapter 12 —**

* * *

Shortly after leaving Commander Tucker's quarters, T'Pol reached her own cabin, where she showered, changed uniforms, and headed for the Mess Hall and her morning tea. She was in a spirited mood just now, though her mood was properly subdued to an acceptable level of decorum according to Vulcan mores, yet despite that fact T'Pol still felt as if she floated on a cloud as she moved through the ship. She'd not experienced this exhilaration before with her previous lovers, Human or Vulcan. It was an odd sensation for T'Pol, though quite pleasant, and it was gratifying to know that Commander Tucker was willing, and quite capable, of 'helping' T'Pol cope with her needs at this time, and for the first time since this whole artificially induced pon'farr business had raised it's head and upturned her orderly life, T'Pol felt herself to be in a good place.

She stepped into the Mess Hall amid a bustle of about fifteen crewmen getting an early start to their day, and she saw that Commander Tucker was seated at his favored table already, and having sensed her eyes on him, the man looked up and raised a brow, no doubt in imitation of her own mannerisms, smiled slightly and then raised his coffee cup in a mock salute: and here she'd dared hope the man would stop being an ass after bedding him just hours earlier. Ruefully, T'Pol realized now she may as well have wished for wings, as wish for Commander Tucker to stop being himself.

A few moments to choose a cup of hot orange peel tea and a cinnamon-raisin scone, and then T'Pol joined Commander Tucker at his table: he was her usual companion, after all… it would seem odd if she were to start avoiding him now.

"Morning, T'Pol," said Trip as the Vulcan took a seat at his table.

"Commander," said T'Pol, carefully looking round the room, but no one seemed to pay them any undue attention.

"How'd you sleep last night?" said Trip, with a deadpan expression. "You seem a bit worn out."

"It is true. I am indeed a bit fatigued, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, after a moment's thought. "I tossed and turned all night long, dreaming that I wrestled with a dirty little beast all the way 'till morning, and I found it quite exhausting."

Trip laughed at that, and said, "Well, you should lock your psyche down before sleep with Vulcan mental discipline, SubCommander, so that you don't suffer from such exhausting dreams."

"No," said T'Pol, after seeming to weigh the commander's suggestion for a few moments. "I needed the exercise. In fact, I would not mind another bout this evening, say, round 2100 hours, so I will lay myself down in my bunk, in case this filthy little degenerate beast feels the desire to indulge his deviant desires once again."

"Wait…" said Trip. "A bit earlier he was a dirty little beast, but now he's degenerate, filthy and deviant?"

T'Pol was about to address the commander's question, but just then, a public announcement called Trip to Engineering, so Trip took a last sip of his coffee, stood, and said, "Well, if I cross paths with this dirty, degenerate, filthy, deviant little beast, I'll let him know you're down for another bout."

"Do so," said T'Pol, quite casually, though her eyes could not help but follow the man all the way to the door, and her thoughts followed Commander Tucker much longer than that.

She'd previously flirted with the thought of taking Commander Tucker as her only lover, and after last night, and the anticipation she felt for this coming night, the thought crossed T'Pol's mind once more.

I will wait, thought T'Pol, fearing that perhaps the magic of last night might have been a fluke. A few weeks more for Commander Tucker to prove himself, and then we will see where we stand.

* * *

Sek walked into the Cabbage Patch, a restaurant near Vulcan's Embassy to Earth in San Francisco, at a few minutes past 2PM. Though he'd had to pass a dozen other restaurants to get there, the Cabbage Patch had a strong Vulcan customer base due to the excellence of the vegetarian side of their menu, so Sek gladly made the trip here.

As Sek stepped inside the restaurant, one of his men followed close on his heels, and once inside, Sek made out two more of his men who had arrived here a half hour earlier, the better to blend in, the better to scope out the restaurant. This whole thing with their distant cousins, the Rihansu, the aliens which the Humans had named Romulans, had spooked every Vulcan on Earth, for it was obvious to all that something alarming was happening even if that something was not openly discussed, and given the highly unexpected moves made by the High Command, as well as the public murders of the 191 Vulcans, by yet other 'Vulcans' just days earlier, well, something wicked was afoot… had the general Vulcan public on Earth also known of the other 82 Vulcans, kidnapped and essentially vanished, for there'd been no trace of them yet, their concerns would only have increased.

In any case, Sek's cover was as one of the many mid-level diplomats, which as a group kept much of the Earth/Vulcan diplomatic dialogue running smoothly, so the fact that he'd brought along a bodyguard would not have seemed out of place, had anyone been watching him, and even then, the bodyguard was skilled at keeping a low profile: only that man's watchful eyes and silent assessment of every patron and employee would have marked him for what he truly was, and even then, his nature would only have been divined by a very few: most would have dismissed him as a harmless patron, the way they'd likely dismiss his two teammates already in the restaurant, for it was a part of their training to blend in as well as possible.

Sek took a corner table facing the door, while his guard took a seat next to Sek, and together they waited, while the other bodyguards watched discreetly from their places in the dining room. They didn't have to wait long, as the man whom Sek was here to meet was agreeably punctual, and he came alone. Sek recognized the Human, and vice versa, and the Human approached Sek's table directly. As soon as the Human drew close, the bodyguard seated next to Sek stood, and moved some ten feet away, to take a seat at the bar.

"It's good to see you, Sek," said the man, and following Vulcan custom, the man made no effort to reach out or shake the Vulcan's hand.

"Likewise, Harris," said Sek, though he doubted that was the Human's name.

Harris was quite vexing in fact, for Sek personally, and the V'Shar in particular. That branch of the Vulcan services, the V'Shar, specialized in secrets, and intelligence, and projections and corrections, and often enough in wet work and other assorted physical actions to correct that which was flawed, to right that which was wrong, all in service to Vulcan, yet this Harris, and the agency he represented made StarFleet Intelligence seem like a gathering of choirboys… more impressive still, they got things done while leaving hardly a mark of their role in the matter at hand. Even the V'Shar, generally so condescending of competing intelligence services, could appreciate professionalism of that sort. Still, the fact that none of them knew shit about Section 31, save the name of that agency, and Harris himself, was quite frustrating.

No matter, things will shake out eventually. They always do, thought Sek and focused the whole of his attention on the man seated across the table from him.

"I hope you are hungry," said Sek. "The food is quite good here."

"I could eat," said Harris, and just then, the waiter, a college aged kid dropped off their menus, and took their drink orders: a few moments later, he returned with their drinks, and took their food orders, and then he departed, leaving Human and Vulcan alone.

Sek sipped on his iced blueberry tea, sweetened it, watching Harris silently, giving the man the opportunity of initiating the conversation as he pleased.

In his turn, Harris took a sip of his raspberry tea, nodded appreciatively, and said, "How's the hunt for your missing people going? Any leads?"

"Unfortunately, no," said Sek, "and that fact concerns us all. We all feel anxiety over their fate as fellow Vulcans, and our professional angst is even more consuming."

"I don't suppose they've been equipped to deal with such situations?" said Harris. "Innocuous looking transmitters, post-hypnotic suggestions to resist torture, so on…"

"No," said Sek. "We thought those people too far down on the food chain to be targeted, and even then, had a few been kidnapped, it would not have jeopardized us greatly, as they're all strictly limited insofar as the scope of the data they come across—"

"But when you're dealing with multiple sources of information…" said Harris.

"Precisely," said Sek. "With 82 of our people missing, and with that many data points, the… Romulans will build a decent, if incomplete picture of our doings."

"Yeah," said Harris. "These Rihansu—"

"Please call them Romulans," said Sek. "Rihansu is a Vulcan word, and all we need now is a careless slip of the tongue, from any of your people or mine, and anyone with two brain cells will figure out that we're about to war with Pre-Reformation Vulcans, and believe me, that is not a prospect I relish."

Harris nodded, and said, "What does it mean? Rihansu."

"The closest translation in English would be 'Willful Exiles' but there is an underlying tone of contempt in the name, implying that the 'Willful Exiles' depart a place unworthy of them, polluted, if you will," said Sek. "When Surak preached his way of logic, and the schism between our people's occurred, they warned us never to cross their path, and we have followed that advice ever since. That they have come for us, means that they are no longer content to leave us in peace."

"I see," said Harris. "Well, these Romulans must have been watching your people for months, to move with such precision, Sek. It all went down so smoothly, the kidnappings and the assassinations, the last act completed within an hour of the first act."

Sek nodded his agreement with Harris' conclusion, and just then the waiter approached the table with a large appetizer plate and two smaller plates, as well as a basket of a thickly sliced, freshly made, crusty sourdough bread. He refilled their teas, then took his leave once more.

The appetizer plate was vegetarian, if not vegan, in deference to Sek's dietary restrictions, for all Vulcans had been vegetarians since Surak's time, and in keeping with this restaurant's reputation, it all looked delicious.

"Looks good," said Harris, eyeballing the platter.

Grilled jalapenos peppers stuffed with goat cheese, fried zucchinni and potato fritters, a luxurious fava bean puree drizzled with olive oil, a slow cooked eggplant & tomato dish which was generously spiced with cumin and butter among other things, deep fried bulgur wheat balls stuffed with sauteed mushrooms and onions, green and black olives, cubed feta cheese drizzled with olive oil, a parsley and mint salad, and some lightly pickled, thinly shredded red onion.

Sek nodded in agreement with Harris and they spent the next few minutes sampling the various foods, before Harris spoke again.

"We've tracked down two small Romulan cells," said Harris, "and we took them down."

Sek froze at that, for that was more than the V'Shar could claim, and waited for Harris to continue.

"None of the Romulans allowed themselves to be taken alive," said Harris. "Some tried to escape, some remained behind in order to guard the retreat of the others, but when it became clear to them all that we had them surrounded they fought to the last, taking fourteen of our men with them. The last of the Romulan survivors made certain that their wounded were truly dead, and then they capped themselves as well."

Sek nodded, and said, "Any sign of my people?"

"There were three of them in Romulan custody, Sek, judging by their clothing, and the ample marks on their body which made it clear they'd been subjected to harsh physical interrogation. Our medical examiner said two of them had been dead for a day or so," said Harris. "The last was killed before our teams stormed the place."

"I see," said Sek. "The bodies?"

"The bodies of your people will be delivered to your embassy in a few hours, along with the corpses of their captors, in an unmarked delivery truck: I'll give you a heads up right before they reach the embassy. Perhaps your people can learn something from the Romulan corpses," said Harris. "They were professionals, Sek. They left nothing behind which could be of use to either of us."

"That is to be expected," said Sek. "I would appreciate it if you would involve some of our people should you come across some more of these Romulan cells. With all of the requirements upon my people I can not fully man your teams, but I would like at least one Vulcan observer going along with your strike teams, with your permission."

"Sure," said Harris. "Pick out ten good people and I'll send someone to collect them this evening. Just make certain they understand that they're under our command, while embedded into our squads."

"I will do so. Thank you," said Sek, and then the Vulcan lost himself in thought: these cursed Romulans would be a nightmare to deal with before it was all over…

* * *

T'Pol waited for Commander Tucker that evening, and if she'd been Human, T'Pol would have been restless, for she'd thought of nothing but Commander Tucker all day long, and she'd just turned down an offer from captain Archer to accommodate her needs, but she'd disappointed the captain and she had done so in order to spend another night with Commander Tucker, for T'Pol found her sexual encounter with Commander Tucker to be the most satisfying of all… not just of all Humans, but of all her sexual encounters.

That the man had enjoyed himself as well the previous night, well, that was clear enough, and the thought gratified T'Pol, as perhaps she and Commander Tucker had the makings of a successful arrangement to see her through this time of need, though it was too early to be completely certain. Yes, hopefully Commander Tucker would do quite well, and she could pare back her time with the others a bit in the commander's favor, yet still maintain those previous connections, for that would probably be for the best, lest the crew take note of the amount of time she was spending with Commander Tucker.

Just then the computer announced a visitor with a soft chime, and T'Pol rose from her meditation pillow, faced the door, and said, "Enter."

A moment later, Trip entered her quarters, and the two eyed each other for a moment as Commander Tucker drew close to T'Pol, a predatory grin on his face... and with that, it was on!


	13. Chapter 13

— **Chapter 13 —**

* * *

A few hours after Harris' men had delivered the Romulan corpses to the Vulcan embassy, Sek made his way to the small morgue in the embassy building's basement, and to his surprise, he found Soval already in attendance.

"Soval," said Sek. "Your presence here is unexpected. Are you certain that you wish to witness this grisly business?"

"As a matter of fact, the good doctor has already conducted his investigation, Sek," said Soval. "In any case, I have seen my share of dead bodies in my youth, during my service with the Vulcan Navy, and regretfully, a fair number of them since that time as well."

"Ah," said Sek. "Apologies, Soval."

"None are necessary," said Soval.

"Where is Doctor Yset?" said Sek.

"Here, Sek," said Yset, walking into the morgue, a tall cup of coffee in hand. "Come."

The doctor led the way past the office space in the front, to the business end of the morgue, and a morbid room with a steel table, front and center, and a dozen temperature controlled lockers built into the west wall, which served as temporary holding places for the corpses making the rounds through here. A Vulcan intern was already in the morgue, tidying up the place, putting away the power saws, hand saws, scalpels, and all the other tool which Doctor Yset had required to conduct his grisly inspection of the Romulan corpses, and when that intern saw Yset, Soval and Sek enter the room, he laid his work aside, and pulled out the drawers which held the Romulans.

The doctor led Sek and Soval to the nearest body, and then took a sip of coffee before turning to face Soval and Sek.

"What we have here," said Yset, "are essentially Vulcan corpses."

"The Humans killed some of our people by mistake?" said Sek. "They look Vulcan, but we have checked their fingerprints, their iris scans. We have no record of these people."

"No," said Yset. "I am certain that the Humans made no mistake here."

"Oh?" said Soval.

Yset ran his fingers along the brow line of the nearest corpse, and said, "Each of these Romulans has undergone an identical surgical procedure, which removed some bony brow ridges from their skull. The operation was ably done in all cases, the bone removed by hand, rather than cut by laser, all the better to fully simulate the minute imperfections found in nature, and produce an authentic result. The surgeons were quite talented, and the results are unnoticeable to the naked eye, but discernible under a close physical examination."

"We used to have—" said Sek.

"Yes," said Yset. "This same feature, the prominent brow ridges were a fixture of the Southern Clans of Vulcan."

"And the Southern Clans," said Soval, understanding Yset's meaning, "largely left Vulcan with the rest of the Rihansu, after Surak's ascension."

"Precisely," said Yset. "And as that bit of genetic diversity left our planet, the genes expressing that particular feature vanished from our gene pool in time…"

"Just as it became a standard feature among the Romulans," said Sek. "Makes sense. The Southern Clans made up close to seventy percent of the Rihansu."

Yset nodded in agreement with Sek.

"Very well," said Soval. "What else can you tell us about these Romulans?"

"Nothing worthy of note," said Yset. "You have to understand, Soval, in evolutionary terms our split was so recent that there will be very little variance between us. I have seen some very minute deviations from the Vulcan norm in their genetic code, but nothing that stands out without the deepest levels of scrutiny. Nothing a security scan will pick out."

Soval seemed displeased with Yset's words, and Sek shared Soval's displeasure. There were some fifteen million Vulcans on Earth, for business or pleasure, to educate or to learn, and apparently there would be no easy way to tell the sheep from the goats.

"But I believe that these people, these Romulans," said Yset, "will differ greatly from us psychologically if the Old Blood still runs in their veins untempered by logic, and their mindset and their thoughts will likely be dark, violent and passionate. That is not a medical opinion, but it is something which might be worth investigating."

Sek understood, and said, "Mind priests, Soval. Mind priests and adepts should be able to spot them."

"Indeed, Sek," said Soval, who had already grasped Yset's point. "But we will need them on Vulcan, no doubt, as well as here on Earth, and we'll need them on our ships, stations and in the colonies... Do we have enough psychics to cover all that terrain? Not by long shot, Sek."

Sek sighed, for Soval's logic was sound. These Romulans were what the Humans called a cluster-fuck.

* * *

Some five days after her initial coupling with Commander Tucker, and after seven additional, deliciously sensual, encounters spread out over the course of those five days, T'Pol turned her head to glance at the alarm clock which displayed the time as 0420 hours, and the Vulcan sighed with regret: she would have to leave soon. But she was comfortable here, in Commander Tucker's quarters, in Commander Tucker's bed, in Commander Tucker's arms, as the man spooned her in a very agreeable manner, and peppered the back of her neck with kisses.

"I must leave soon," said T'Pol.

"I know," said Trip, and after kissing the back of T'Pol's neck one last time, Trip pulled away from T'Pol and climbed from his bunk to take a swig from an iced tea bottle he'd set on his desk a few hours ago.

T'Pol stood as well, and despite the fact that it was her decision to leave the commander's cabin, she'd expected the man to put up a bit more resistance to her departure, and the fact that he had not done so bothered T'Pol for some reason. Perhaps it was the sex which was at fault for T'Pol's misgivings. It was too good by far, far better than any T'Pol had experienced before, and that alone was a surprise.

T'Pol was no fool. Sex was a basic biological function for Vulcans, save when a Bond was involved, and then it became something more, it became a spiritual bond as well. But this was not the case here for T'Pol with Archer, Reed, and Trip, as they were Humans, and a mate-Bond was not a part of their physiological makeup. No, this was merely a sexual impulse in overdrive, and it was imperative that T'Pol satiate that need in the same way that one fed hunger with food, quieted thirst with water, or eased fatigue with sleep…

Both Archer and Reed fulfilled the need adequately enough, but Trip was something else, something special, and in truth, it was something which T'Pol had never expected to come across… and it was that something which concerned her now, for she suspected that she was growing attached to Trip: emotionally attached… and that would never do, as T'Pol had no clue how the man felt about her.

Something to consider, thought T'Pol, and she resolved to meditate upon the matter in the coming days in order sort out her feelings. Then, she would decide upon a course of action, and speak about the matter with Commander Tucker. For some reason, neither Archer nor Reed figured in the equation, nor was their opinion on the matter of any interest, only Commander Tucker's.

* * *

It was later that same day, at 0900 hours, that Soval climbed into one of the high end limousines which the Vulcans favored for their first tier diplomatic personnel stationed on Earth. He was on his way to StarFleet's HQ campus, for although the diplomatic dance with Earth was conducted in Washington D.C., Soval preferred to station himself in San Francisco, the city in which StarFleet's command structure was located, and that was no handicap at all, given that D.C. was only a short shuttle flight from San Francisco.

The limousine was a work of wonder. All electric, so it was smooth, fast and quiet, heavily armored to protect the Vulcan diplomats from most personal weapons, equipped with run flat tires and a supplementary magnetic force field which would kick in and allow the car to ride some two feet above the ground if the tires should somehow fail entirely, and all that wrapped around an interior space which was designed to project that image of restrained elegance and quiet luxury which that was typical of the best of Vulcan design.

So it was that Soval stepped into the limo, along with several of his aides and four V'Shar bodyguards, and the car soon left the Vulcan Embassy behind, on its way to StarFleet's HQ. Traffic through San Francisco could be a nightmare at times, but a drive through the streets at 0900, after the typical morning rush hour was over, was fairly brisk, not that Soval had eyes for any of that. Life was nothing but work now that the High Command had decided to work for the closest of ties with Earth, so Soval was busy… too busy to note that they were taking a detour in response to an accident blocking the car's passage on the randomly chosen route the driver had been assigned to take this day, too busy to notice a heavy dump truck pulling in behind them, and then turning at an angle which blocked the entire street and their retreat, just as a large public transit bus pulled across their path in front, and stopped there, blocking the entire street, and thus, the limousine's forward movement.

The Vulcan driver grasped things quickly enough, as did the security man sitting next to the driver, and just as the driver pressed the emergency dash button which instantly alerted the embassy's security forces of danger, and just as the security man was about to alert his fellows riding in the rear of the limo, the attackers struck home.

From the 2nd story of a brownstone building bordering the road, two streams of fire and smoke reached out towards Soval's limousine. The first missile struck the limo's nose and blew the entire nose of the heavily armored car apart, a large part of it driven backwards, towards the cab of the limo, with a force no car could withstand, no matter how heavily armored.

The driver, and the bodyguard sitting next to the driver were killed immediately, as were two of the aides inside the limo's main cab. Fortunately for the Vulcans, the second missile missed the car entirely, plowing into Nico's Italian deli, blowing the deli apart and setting the building on fire in the process.

A half dozen masked men and two masked women swarmed out of the transit bus and advanced towards the limousine, weapons at the ready. They moved briskly, yet seemingly without any undue haste, which was an odd combination: the truth is, they moved like soldiers. They knew they were on a tight schedule, before Human cops, and more importantly, Vulcan security forces showed up on the scene. Their mission was simple. Capture or kill Soval.

These troopers surrounded the limo, but couldn't tell much of what lay inside that automobile. The body of the car had survived, as had the thick, bullet-proof windows, save for a six inch hole in the back windshield of the car. The leader pointed to one of the smaller figures, a female, and she tossed a smoke grenade into the car. It was thrown back.

Just then, the sound of automatic phaser fire came from the back of the street, where the heavy dump truck had blocked off the limo's escape, and Vulcan voices were heard from there, and the soldiers surrounding the limo knew the clock was ticking.

The leader looked at another man, and that trooper slapped a magnetic disk onto the car's door, and the troopers backed off, then detonated the explosive, which blew off the locking mechanism, and must have inflicted some damage on the occupants of the car, as a series of blood curdling screams came from the limo now, and then the screams died off. The soldiers closed in again, just as the sound of approaching Human police sirens became audible to these keen-eared soldiers, if not yet the Humans watching this entire assault unfold from their hidey holes.

One of the soldiers grabbed hold of the now partly opened door and moved to swing it aside, when someone from inside the car reached around and unloaded three phaser blasts into the soldier from close quarters. Two of the shots were absorbed by the body armor which these soldiers were wearing, but one shot connected to the soldier, with a shot in the torso.

From back in the street, the dump truck's sudden explosion told the leader that the four men there had been close to being overwhelmed, and in one last act of defiance, had chosen self-destruction, rather than capture. In any case, the Vulcans would not be approaching from that vector for a while, given the sheer amount of homemade incendiary explosives packed into that dump truck, which meant the Vulcans would be working their way around the fire which even now began consuming the entire street, the fire spreading from building to building through the medium of the homemade jellied incendiary explosives which had formed the payload of the dump truck… and now, the sounds of phaser fire came from the transit bus, where the rest of his men were holding off the Human cops.

No problems there, as Human police officers could not match the combat readiness of the V'Shar trained troops. Still, time was running out. The leader signaled and another trooper tossed some flash bangs right next to the car, but not inside, where they could be tossed out, and an instant alter the charges detonated, their blinding effect all but uselessly expended, but their loud noise blasts practically guaranteed to disrupt the response of the survivors still left in the car.

And it was so. Two of the soldiers approached the car, while another four stood near by, weapons at the ready, to back their fellows up. The door was swung open, and both of the leading troopers unloaded their automatic phasers into the interior of the car, some sixty shots or so, before they were satisfied that all within were dead, and took a position round their leader, looking outward for threats.

The leader stood next to the trooper wounded earlier in the ambush, as the team's medic gave her a quick once over.

"Shallor entien k'vas, Silaj," said the wounded trooper, looking up at the squad's leader: We had some good times, Silaj.

To an onlooker, the wounded female on the ground would have seemed to be a Vulcan, a bit too hard faced to be truly called beautiful, but pretty enough for Silaj: the two had been lovers for the past two years.

Silaj's eyes were drawn to the medic, as that man looked up at Silaj, and the medic shook his head: it was clear the female was done, her life ebbing out with the green blood that ran slowly out of her even now, despite the medic's best efforts.

"Teslan avok, Li'ssia," said Silaj: The best, Li'ssia.

Silaj brought his phaser rifle on point for Li'ssia's head. They could not leave prisoners in the enemy's hands, nor could they burden themselves with a dying soldier: they had their duty to the Empire. Lissia nodded in acceptance, as she understood the necessities here, and she smiled weakly at Silaj though her wounds intensely painful.

An instant later, Silaj killed his lover, lest she fall into the hands of the enemy and betray her people under duress, and then the Romulan assault team boarded the bus, cut it's way through the Human cops and made it's escape, leaving behind them forty Human corpses, fourteen Vulcan, and five of their own, Li'ssia among the five.


	14. Chapter 14

— **Chapter 14 —**

* * *

"We need to talk about what happened today, Harris," said Sek, looking into the video display of his comm unit. "We need to control this story in your media."

"I know," said Harris. "Don't worry about it, Sek. I've got it covered, and I imagine you're up to your neck in it now. Take care of business from your end, I'll do so from mine. We'll talk soon."

"As you say," said Sek, already on his way out of the office, as he intended to personally visit the scene of the Romulan attack on Soval's car.

"Sek," said T'elen, one of Sek's lieutenants, when she crossed paths with him in the hallway. "I have news. Soval and Tvell might live. They're both in surgery now at San Francisco General Hospital."

Sek knew that according to protocol, the emergency beacon which Soval's driver had triggered, had set a number of things in motion, among them, three Vulcan surgeons being rushed to San Francisco General Hospital in anticipation of Vulcan casualties, so that part of it would be handled by Medical.

"What about security?"

"Four teams already in place, Sek," said T'elen, "in addition to the hundred or so Human police officers stationed around and inside the hospital. They're all well armed, and they are taking Soval's safety quite seriously."

"Good," said Sek. "I need to see the scene of the ambush for myself now, and then I'm heading for the hospital to check on Soval. Call me immediately if something comes up."

"I will," said T'elen.

* * *

John Frederick Paxton poured himself a drink and took a seat on the large balcony of his hotel suite, looking out into the night at the bright lights of San Francisco and out beyond them to the inky blackness that was the Pacific Ocean, lit sparsely by the running lights of the ships traversing the area. Paxton had been visiting San Francisco for the past two weeks, and yesterday he'd been part of a horror show as he'd witnessed, from fifty feet away and behind an overturned table, the attack on what he'd later learned was Ambassador Soval's car.

And what he'd seen yesterday had left its mark on Paxton, for incredibly, the man had seen one group of Vulcans attacking another group of Vulcans with deadly force, for reasons that Paxton knew nothing about, cared nothing about. What held meaning for Paxton was his sense of outrage upon seeing aliens settling their private quarrels on a public street on Earth, placing every Human in that location at risk. What's more, as he'd made his way out of the area in haste after the shooting was over, Paxton had taken in the wreckage and dead bodies which these aliens had left behind them on Earth's streets, had turned to look one last time at the still burning street behind him, and Paxton had felt nothing but outrage!

* * *

Sek's first stop was the street in which the ambush on Soval's limo had taken place, and after spending an hour or so moving among the Human police officers and forensic investigators still canvassing the street, Sek decided to move on. Still, a last look around the ravaged street was a sobering sight for the Vulcan, and Sek knew they were all just kidding themselves: the Humans, the High Command, Harris, himself… none of this was going to be manageable, because the Romulans weren't going to stop here, and Sek knew that soon enough Vulcans would be fighting and dying everywhere, against the shades of their past.

Eventually, Sek arrived at San Francisco General Hospital and found himself reassured by the presence and obvious vigilance of the Human police officers, who eyed him intently from the moment that Sek stepped out of his vehicle, to the time that a member of the Vulcan protection detail already in place and already vetted, came down to personally vouch for Sek.

"What news?" said Sek, looking at Vrit, as they walked through the halls in order to reach the hospital wing in which the surgical chambers were located.

"We lost Tvell ten minutes ago," said Vrit.

"Soval?" said Sek.

"He is still fighting for his life," said Vrit.

"How is that even possible?" said Sek in wonder, for he'd seen the inside of the limo, torn and marred by phaser fire, liberally sprayed with green Vulcan blood.

"The last act of his bodyguards was to lunge at the Romulans, then fall back atop Soval," said Vrit. "Those Romulans hosed down the inside of the limo with phaser fire, yet Soval still lives somehow, despite being shot twice. The truth is he just got lucky, Sek. So far. There is no guarantee he will live to see the morning."

Sek nodded in agreement with Vrit, then excused himself when his comm unit notified Sek that he'd received a text message: Meet me in the cafeteria on the 1st floor. Harris.

"I have to meet someone in the cafeteria," said Sek. "Call me if Soval's status changes."

Vrit nodded, and Sek headed for the elevators, and then the cafeteria, where Sek saw Harris seated at a corner table. Curiously enough, Harris never brought any guards, though it made sense in a way. No one knew Harris, no one even knew his status inside Section 31 - he might be the prime mover, or one of them, or he might be nothing more than a messenger boy. Who knew? Certainly not the V'Shar, a fact which stuck in Sek's craw. Moments later Sek joined Harris, and the Human slid a tall coffee in a go cup towards Sek.

"Thank you," said Sek, as he'd developed a taste for the Human beverage shortly after arriving on Earth, and he and Harris had met often enough that Harris knew that fact. "Tell me about the news coverage. I notice the first reports already mentioned a Vulcan on Vulcan shootout. That's not good."

"Don't worry about it," said Harris. "It's being taken care of even as we speak. Witnesses will come out to claim otherwise, along with some amateur video."

"That could be tricky," said Sek, "if your people screw it up. One sign that the video is manipulated and this thing blows up in our faces."

"My people don't make mistakes, Sek," said Harris, sliding a PADD unit towards Sek. "Everything we have on the attack. Now, tell me what you know."

After hearing out Sek out, Harris said, "Ok. We both have things to deal with, Sek. We'll talk later."

Harris stood and left the cafeteria then, while Sek took a few minutes longer to savor his coffee and consider the state of things.

* * *

The Enterprise, along with it's small squadron of ten Delus class ships reached Vulcan right on time, six days after leaving Earth's Sol system, and wargames began immediately, as the Vulcans expected that the Human squadron would be ready to immediately join the wargames going on elsewhere.

"…and so, Captain Archer," said the Vulcan Admiral Delok, "you and your squadron of ships will fall in with D-group, on my left flank. We head for the Orion border, where we will relieve Admiral Fek and his ships of that duty, for the next thirty days."

"Yes, Admiral," said Archer politely, for Archer's written orders were crystal clear, and ended with a verbal caution over a comm line from Admiral Ryan: We'd best hear you conducted yourself appropriately the entire time you're serving with the Vulcan Navy, Jon, despite your personal feelings where the Vulcans are concerned. If you can't work with them, that's going to be a problem for us, and we're going to make it a problem for you, and we're going to deal with it one way or another.

Orders received and understood, had thought Jon at the time, and he'd resolved even then to do better where Vulcans were concerned: on the eve of war, his quibbles with the Vulcans seemed like small potatoes.

* * *

John Paxton had just finished a presentation for some four hundred of the most influential corporate and governmental representatives, for it was just good business to keep one's customers apprised of the state of things at the Orpheus Mining Colony, when so much of their profits and strategic supplies depended on the output of Paxton's mining facility, which was currently located on the moon, serving as the heart of Luna's Moon Colony.

The meeting had been fairly mundane, but essential, and it had been delivered for the past sixty-one years by a Paxton, either Paxton the elder, John's father, or John himself. It was Paxton the elder who had built the huge, but mobile, Orpheus Mining Facility which had been been completed in 2090, after which it had been piloted to the moon, where Paxton's father had quickly built a mining colony around that facility. That visionary dream, to create Orpheus, had made both, the elder Paxton and his son, rich beyond belief for the entire operation produced profits in the tens of billions annually, and it had been in operation for sixty-one years now.

As it turned out, Paxton's presentation had lasted some five hours, after which Paxton called for a lunch break, which he'd chosen to enjoy in his own sumptuous penthouse. Naturally, the food was delivered shortly after Paxton's stated desire to eat, after which Paxton turned on the wall mounted flat screen video monitor, and brought up the news nets. What he saw and heard, enraged the man.

"…and so, all sources point to yesterday's tragedy and assault upon the Vulcan ambassador's limousine, being the result of a mistaken attack by a criminal gang named the Vagos, originally based in Oregon, but slowly making their way south, into California. Gareth Dyne, spokesman for San Francisco's police department has just assured the citizens of this proud city that the perpetrators of that attack will be brought to justice, and so—"

Paxton turned off the news feed at that lie, fuming now. He knew damned well that what had taken place yesterday had nothing to do with a Human criminal gang. It was the Vulcans. Vulcans on both sides, killing each other, and killing the Humans caught in the crossfire. And somehow, the Vulcan High Command was pulling strings, making Human politicians and police play along with this farce.

This kind of shit can't stand! thought Paxton. It will not stand!

Paxton's mind focused now, and the solution to yesterday's outrage was clear. He would form an organization to make it clear to all of humanity that Earth was meant for Humans, not aliens, and with his money funding such an organization, that organization would go far and go fast. Political lobbying and political change would be the ideal outcome, but Paxton was resolved to take this matter as far as needed, in order to achieve his goals, and keep Earth for Humans. After a moment's contemplation, he even had a name for this organization: Terra Prime.

* * *

Despite T'Pol's inner desire to wait a bit longer before giving herself to either Archer or Reed, she had no choice. Her desires were hampering her efficiency to a noticeable degree, and Commander Tucker was not available to satiate those desires, as Commander Tucker was Acting Captain of the night shift, in order to familiarize himself with Vulcan fleet procedures: that task would normally have fallen to the Enterprise's XO, it's Executive Officer, which was T'Pol, but as she was already intimately familiar with Vulcan fleet procedures, the captain felt that it would benefit the Enterprise best if Trip took on that responsibility, and the role of Acting Captain for the duration of these joint fleet maneuvers.

And so T'Pol moved through the halls at 2350 hours, after having had a late night snack with Commander Tucker before the start of the man's shift, and as she made way for Lt. Reed's cabin, T'Pol felt some measure of internal conflict. Her body was excited by the anticipation of physical pleasure soon to come, but nevertheless, something in the back of her mind troubled T'Pol, and that was odd.

It was odd because it was illogical, though to be fair it was hard to see how she could possibly claim logic here and now: the logical thing would have been to return to Vulcan, take whatever 2nd rate mate her clan could scrape up after she'd broken her honorable engagement to Koss without just cause. Instead, she'd chosen to remain on this ship of aliens, consorting with them to satisfy her needs, rather than doing her duty to clan and people, and it was fair that some might question her logic, even she herself.

True she'd always been a touch more emotional than most Vulcans, and she'd probably harmed her career prospects by choosing to remain so long aboard the Enterprise, on what was supposed to be a temporary assignment. Still, the thought of returning to Vulcan and taking a mate there, and meeting customary expectations held no appeal for T'Pol. None at all. And so she was reduced to this, satisfying her needs with aliens. It could have been worse, for both Archer and Reed were competent and discreet and that was enough from them both: T'Pol wanted no more. As for Commander Tucker…

To be honest, T'Pol found no conflict in satisfying her desires with Commander Tucker… No, even given a Vulcan alternative, she would have preferred to find her satisfaction with Commander Tucker this night, but he was unavailable… and she had a need to satisfy. There was nothing inconsistent in the choices she was making. So thought T'Pol as she approached Lt. Reed's cabin, and since he was expecting her, his cabin door opened with the mere press of a button, and T'Pol slipped within with the grace of a cat.

* * *

It was late in the night when one of Sek's people drove up to a seemingly abandoned industrial building in an ten year old vehicle, which was about as close to nondescript as it was possible to get, a passenger seated next to the driver. Neither Vulcan saw any sign of life but they were both pros, and they both knew they'd been under close observation since they'd entered this area, and the passenger got that peculiar feeling that came with being watched through a scope, but then she was a psychic, so that wasn't as crazy as it sounded.

Moments later, the passenger exited the car and the vehicle pulled away, while the passenger approached the only door lit by a weak light. Before she reached the door two men stepped out of the shadows, and if she'd not expected such a reception eventually, she'd have been frightened by their sudden appearance: as it was, she merely started imperceptibly.

"I am Vikas," said the Vulcan.

"I know," said one of the guards. "You're expected."

One of the guards escorted Vikas, inside, and through two other guarded checkpoints, before she found herself in the presence of the man Sek had spoken of, Harris.

"I am Vikas, and I am at your disposal, Mr. Harris."

"Just call me Harris."

"As you wish. Nice place you have here," said Vikas, noting the generally dilapidated state of the building, yet noting also the solid concrete walls, the newly installed steel gates and surveillance equipment which was no doubt monitored from someplace nearby.

"Eh," said Harris. "It serves it's purpose, and it's easily set up, and easily abandoned."

Vikas nodded in agreement with Harris.

"Come," said the Human, leading Vikas through the building, and they were accompanied by two guards.

"Did Sek give you any instructions before sending you here?" said Harris.

"Only that our relationship with your organization has been highly effective and is considered vital," said Vikas. "I am to obey you as I obey my own superiors, and to hold nothing back from you, though I am allowed to share any information I come across with my own people."

"That sounds about right," said Harris.

The man turned a final corner, and into a long hall way that had been converted into a jail block which held ten jail cells, five on each side. That was unusual, but not startling. What was startling was that three of these cells held occupants, two males, one female. At first glance Vikas would have mistaken them for Vulcans, but a moment later that illusion was dispelled. Seeing no need to conceal their natures in this place, these Romulans watched both Harris & Vikas with glossy black eyes which hid nothing of their contempt, or their intensity. Vikas shivered to be this close to these people, for their nature was that of predators, and she was far out of here league dealing with such beings: she was just a technical consultant of sorts.

Harris pointed out the female, and the guard raised his rifle and fired a phaser bolt into the Romulan, and Vikas knew the rifle must have been set to stun. To kill such valuable captives would be illogical.

"Does Sek know you have these people?" said Vikas.

"Not yet. We just brought them here an hour ago," said Harris, stepping aside so that the guards could drag the Romulan female out of her cell, and further down the hallway and out of sight, "but he will know of it, when you report to him."

Vikas digested that bit of knowledge: the V'Shar had managed to find and kill nine Romulans, but had not managed to take any live captives. She looked at the cold eyes and hard faces of the Romulan males once more, and that whisper of fear grew in intensity, kept at bay only by the fact that they were secured behind steel bars: freed of their captivity, they'd easily kill her and Harris both.

"What now?" said Vikas.

"Now you do what you do best, Vikas," said Harris. "Come on, follow me."

* * *

Archer sighed, ready to call it a night. He'd been at work for the past two hours in his Ready Room, reviewing readiness reports, in an effort to be productive, but it was 0200 hours now, and he was ready to throw in the towel. He pressed a comm button and listened to the chatter on the Bridge for a few moments, as he'd intended to ask Trip to join him in his Ready Room for a bit, but he could hear that Trip was occupied speaking with the Vulcan in charge of Delok's fleet during the nightwatch, so Jon left Trip at it.

He pressed another button and started viewing the security feed. The Enterprise was equipped with an extensive network of cameras covering every section of the ship, and it served many purposes. In case of a boarding attack, the ship's crew could view the invading force and make use of that intelligence to defeat the attack. In case of fire, it allowed the Damage Control teams to act quickly and efficiently in order to preserve the ship, and so on.

Jon had found another use for it, and he often cycled through the cameras before sleep, in order to assure himself that all was well aboard the Enterprise, and he did so now… and what he accidentally discovered made the man's heart beat much faster with suppressed anger even as his face turned beet red, though no one else was there to notice that fact.

While cycling through the halls, Archer had seen T'Pol slip out of Reed's room. At 0200 hours. And adjusting her uniform in the process.

This is fucking bullshit! thought Archer.

* * *

As for T'Pol, she'd reached her quarters in due time, where she showered and changed into her pajamas, and although her thoughts were nowhere near as tumultuous as Archer's, the Vulcan was deeply conflicted now, and meditation wasn't helping her troubled mind. It all had to do with Commander Tucker. The misgivings she'd held earlier about mating with Reed or Archer, had only increased, rather than decreased in the interval, and these misgivings were really a gut level feeling that she was transgressing upon something of importance… but what?

T'Pol was honest enough with herself to admit that she got something extra from Commander Tucker, something which the others were simply not capable of providing, something which just made the entirety of their experiences much more satisfying, and not just the sexual experiences… that she might have understood and written off, but it was more than just a matter of sexual chemistry between them, something much more than that.

Soon, she would have to speak with Commander Tucker, see where she stood in his eyes… and hopefully they could come to a monogamous arrangement to last her the year, at least that, but perhaps something more.

Something more, thought T'Pol, curiously examining that thought, quite pleased by it.


	15. Chapter 15

— **Chapter 15 —**

* * *

Harris led Vikas to a back room where the captured Romulan female was being secured, by the guards who'd dragged her there, into what looked essentially like a dentist's chair, though more stoutly built. Once their task was complete, a guard pressed a hypo-spray to the Romulan's neck, injected her with some chemical concoction, and then stepped back. Within a minute the Romulan regained consciousness, looked at them all with open contempt.

"Go to it," said Harris, looking at Vikas.

Vikas approached the seated Romulan, taking note of the eight point restraint system which held the Romulan quite securely, and she was glad that the restraints even included a band running across the forehead, as well as immediately beneath the nose, which would restrict the Romulan from biting. But the woman seemed to have no inclination to bite, she merely looked at Vikas, her eyes boring into the Vulcan, and despite their respective positions, it was Vikas who became agitated. Nevertheless, she overcame her unease and reached out to touch the psi points on the Romulan's face, noting a cold smile on the Romulan's face. After a few moments effort, Vikas found that she could not concentrate with the Romulan's eyes on her, and so she closed her eyes and tried to banish the feeling of being watched by this predator in Vulcan form. She began reciting a fairly typical mantra in English, knowing that the Romulan would be fluent in that tongue.

"My mind to your mind,

"Our minds are merging,

"Your thoughts are my thoughts,

"Our minds are one,

"I feel what you feel,

"I see what you see,

"I know what you know."

Vikas felt resistance on the part of the Romulan, but it was clear that they, or at least this particular Romulan had no psychic talent or training, and Vikas repeated the mantra again, and then once more, her psychic senses reaching out to the Romulan. Though she was quite skilled, Vikas was not truly a master. She'd need another thirty years to refine her psychic sensitivity to such a point that she could slip into another's mind as an abstract whisper, too abstract to trigger the defensive instincts of even an untrained mind. As it was, she had to rely on imagery, so Vikas imagined a sperm penetrating an ovum, wiggling relentlessly, probing here and there for soft spots, until, just so, after a half hour or a bit longer, Vikas gained entry into the Romulan's psyche.

She saw the Romulan there, or rather the Romulan's subconscious self-image, sitting silently on an attractive throne of black stone, in some type of airy cathedral or palace of stone and light, a sword laid across her lap, wearing a green and black feathered headdress which matched colors with her elegant, tight-fitting dress, and Vikas boldly approached the Romulan in an imaginary body of her own, for the mental sphere was her domain, and the Romulan no threat to her here.

"To resist me is useless," thought Vikas, knowing that here, the Romulan would hear and understand her thoughts. "I will take only what I need, and no more. Nothing I do here will harm you."

"Certainly, cousin," said the Romulan, and smiled coldly. "Come and take it."

There was no need for Vikas to touch the Romulan's psi points here, for they were already joined, so Vikas reached deep into the Romulan's psyche, feeling no resistance…

And then, before she could get anything substantive from the Romulan, the woman screamed in pain, and what seemed to be a two thousand pound slab of stone fell from the ceiling, crashing right next to Vikas and nearly frightening the Vulcan out of this state, and then before she could collect herself, another slab fell, and then another, and with that Vikas fled, meaning to extricate herself from the Romulan's psyche. Something unexpected was happening, something frightening, and Vikas needed to pull out, and try to extract the information she was after at a later time.

"Move!" heard Vikas suddenly, and felt herself shoved aside in the physical world, by two Human medics.

The men began working frantically on the Romulan, severing three of the restraints which hampered them in the performance of their duty, but it was to no avail. The Romulan spasmed for a few moments then breathed her last, though the medics continued working on her for a while with drugs and a defibrillator, until at last, they threw in the towel. This whole time, Vikas, Harris and the guards had watched silently from the sidelines, and when the medics stopped their work, Harris caught their attention.

"Forget her," said the lead medic. "She's gone."

"I want her processed in house," said Harris, "and I want to know about anything that stands out."

"Right," said the lead doctor.

"Come with me," said Harris, looking at Vikas, and a minute later they were in his office, where Harris held up a bottle of whisky.

"No, thank you," said Vikas, and stood at attention.

"What happened?" said Harris, pouring himself a shot.

"She committed suicide," said Vikas thoughtfully, "or she was killed. Take your choice, they're probably both accurate."

"Say what?"

"I believe that the Romulan command structure anticipated that Vulcans would try to mind probe their captured soldiers," said Vikas. "They took some preventative measures. Or at least such measures were taken with this one. I do not know if that is the case with them all."

"What kind of measures?" said Harris.

"I do not know. Something to guard their minds, their psyche," said Vikas. "A mental self-destruct switch if you will."

"Psychic?" said Harris.

"Could be," said Vikas, "or else a damned good hypnotic conditioning program, but it would have to be joined to a fanatical devotion to duty, or it would fail."

"I see," said Harris.

"What's more," said Vikas, "the fact that it took me half an hour to mind link with the Romulan is troubling, as it indicates a particularly strong will. If she's typical of the rest, or perhaps even lessor than the average Romulan in terms of willpower, they will be hard to break down, psychicly, mentally or physically."

Harris nodded in understanding, then said, "Those three are Imperial Shrikes, whatever the fuck that means. That's all we got out of them, the fact that they're Imperial Shrikes."

"Sek might know," said Vikas. "He sees more of the intelligence data we have on the Romulans than I, so he might know."

"I'll give him a call," said Harris. "So we can't mind meld with any captured Romulans?"

"I can not say that just yet," said Vikas. "I don't know how thorough their conditioning, how strong their dedication. If they're all like her, you may have to try other methods. I fear that if we try a mind link with another of your captives tonight, the results will be the same. Other methods should be sought first."

"I see," said Harris. "Well, when we captured the first Romulans, and since that time, we've scanned them thoroughly. Found poison capsules in capped teeth, to be released into their systems with a properly angled bite. We found a mono-filament wire woven in their hair, which would make a hell of a garrote, a small amount of material in their belly button, similar to plastic explosive. Enough to blow a lock. They're tricky bastards. Now you tell me they're tough. Great news, Vikas."

"Indeed," said Vikas. "May I ask how you have managed to capture them at all? My people have had no such luck."

"We transported neuro-stun grenades into their location, just as our teams rushed the doors," said Harris. "If you time it right, it works just great, but these may be the last captures. They're adapting quickly. The last cell we tracked had set up a sentry field which blocked our grenade transport, and then they blasted their way out, setting the hotel they were in on fire in the process, and then they walked out in concert with the four hundred panicked quests rushing for the doors."

"I wish I could have been of more assistance, Harris," said Vikas. "Where do you need me now?"

"I don't," said Harris, "but I'll remember you if I need a psychic."

"I will come when you call," said Vikas.

"I appreciate that," said Harris. "Tell Sek he can have one of these captives if he wants to take a crack at interrogating a Romulan, Vikas. One of my men will drive you where you need to go now."

"Thank you," said Vikas, and with that she departed the premises.

* * *

"No, Lt. Reed. No," said Archer, clearly irritated, just seven hours after seeing T'Pol leave the lieutenant's quarters. "Is it too much to ask that you do your job adequately?"

"No, Captain," said Reed, mortified, for he'd always taken pride in performing his duties much more than adequately.

"So what is the problem than, Lieutenant?" said Archer.

"The Vulcans are doing their best to avoid our target lock, Captain," said Reed, "and they're doing so by hiding in this dust cloud, which is playing havoc with our sensors."

"Compensate," said Archer. "Don't make me have to do your job as well as mine, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," said Reed.

Embarrassment flashed through Malcolm at Archer's reprimand, and he could not help but note that Travis and Hoshi made eye contact with each other, wincing, after which Hoshi tried to make sympathetic eye contact with him, but Malcolm pretended he didn't see the look, as it was less humiliating that way: still, for all of Archer's quick temper, he rarely took it out on the crew… what the hell had he done to deserves such honors?

I'm whining, thought Malcolm. It's me. I need to do better.

* * *

After fidgeting in her cabin and waiting for 2100 hours to come round, T'Pol could wait no more. She picked up a fleet manual chosen at random from her bookcase, and then headed for Commander Tucker's quarters. The man would surely be awake by now, for he slept days now while filling the role of Acting Captain of the night shift during their duration with the Vulcan fleet.

Given how close their quarters, T'Pol was there in moments, and thankfully the hallway was clear, so she tried the access button first, hoping the man was awake, and had left his door unlocked, just for her. A moment later, T'Pol's wish came true: the door was not secured. She stepped within, but Commander Tucker was not in his cabin.

Surely he would not have left his door unlocked unless he intends to return soon, thought T'Pol, and she was right.

Moments later, Trip entered his quarters a thermos of coffee and a plate of food in hand.

"Hello, kitten," said Trip, with an easy smile when he saw T'Pol seated on his bunk.

"Commander," said T'Pol.

"You want some coffee?" said Trip, as he set his food and coffee down on his desk. "You'd have to go to the Mess Hall for a cup, or we could share, but you know I like my coffee sweet."

"I do not want any coffee," said T'Pol, gladly accepting the kiss which Trip offered once he'd set his food down.

"I'd give you half of my food," said Trip, "but some of it is meat."

"I am not hungry."

"Oh?" said Trip with a smile. "You don't want coffee, you don't want food. So, what brought you here, T'Pol?"

T'Pol merely raised a brow, and gave her head a slight tilt: Commander Tucker knew damned well what had brought her here.

"Do I have time to eat?" said Trip.

"You do not," said T'Pol, rising to her feet and beginning to slip out of her uniform.

* * *

"Ejul?"

Ejul D'Vri of the Imperial Shrikes turned from his surveillance of the terrain below, in order to face his Centurion, D'Hael.

"Latun'ta arrate sevjran, Domaj. Doloren asiertte aniss," said Ejuil: "Our teams are in place, Centurion. These people are a joke."

"Speak English," said D'Hael, for he'd ordered his teams to stay in character the entire time, which meant speaking either Vulcan or English.

"Apologies, Centurion. All teams are in place," said Ejul, speaking of the ten teams of ten Shrikes each, under this Centurion's command, "all teams report ready."

D'Hael took one last look through the night-vision binoculars at StarFleet's huge campus which held it's own spaceport, StarFleet's HQ building, two dozen large buildings which served various purposes: classrooms, dormitories, gyms, cafeterias, shops, labs, etc… It was impressive enough for this backwater species, but nothing in comparison to their Romulan counterparts, or even the Vulcan.

D'Hael saw nothing of his men, and he would have been angered if he had, but he knew that they were all there, in place, despite StarFleet's attempts to prevent such things by spreading out some three hundred armed men in StarFleet uniforms, their own Tactical & Security cadets arrayed in order to protect the borders, and the interior of this place…

D'Hael's lip curled in disdain for these Humans… they were laughable! Not good enough! Not by a long shot!

"Ten minutes, Centurion," said Ejul.

D'Hael merely nodded, and Ejul turned his attention back to his task, calling in last minute instructions to the dispersed teams over an encrypted comm line, or giving warning on the movements of the Human security teams.

Soon, very soon, Humans all across the face of this planet would be bloodied by the soldiers of the Romulan Star Empire, although D'Hael would not learn the extent of it until the morning news. Although information was limited on a need to know basis, this was not D'Hael's first planetary infiltration mission, and he was familiar with the requirements of such things. At this moment there were likely to be anywhere from two to five thousand Romulan soldiers spread out across the Earth, all finding shelter and concealment among the millions of Vulcans on Earth…

Such a low number of Imperial soldiers might seem insignificant in comparison to the task ahead of them, but the majority of these soldiers were Imperial Marines, each one of them well trained and bloodied in service to the Star Empire, any one of them rated more than a match for any ten regular Human soldiers. As for the others, they were Imperial Shrikes, with all the skills of the Marines, for the Shrikes were recruited from the ranks of Imperial Marines with two or more tours under their belts, and then to the Marines already impressive array of martial skills, the Shrikes added an even higher grade of training in arson, assassination, sabotage, stealth, deception and treachery, an even wider array of skills with which to visit destruction on an enemy. And they would all act soon, in concert, all across the Earth at high noon, Imperial Time.

* * *

"You'll have to leave soon," said Trip, glancing at his wristwatch. "At 0300 hours, four of my people will start ripping up Junction Node C381 and replacing some of the wiring. That's forty feet down the hall. You'll never be able to sneak out unseen, once they begin work."

T'Pol sighed, readjusted her face which pressed against Trip's shoulder, and said, "How long do I have before I have to leave here?"

"It's 0230 hours now, so you should get ready to leave," said Trip, turning to kiss T'Pol's forehead. "Now, in case they're ahead of schedule, and start a bit early."

"Five more minutes," said T'Pol, and sighed again, while her hand slowly caressed Trip's chest. "I find our time together most agreeable, Comman… Trip."

"Well good for you, kitten," said Trip.

"And you, Trip?" said T'Pol, hating that she needed to pull teeth.

She felt Trip look down at her, and T'Pol raised her eyes to meet Trip's.

"I love what we have, T'Pol," said Trip seriously, and then he grinned. "Did I not just make that abundantly clear with my superlative performance?"

"Well," said T'Pol, ignoring Trip's self-serving question, "you never say anything."

"You're a Vulcan."

"So?" said T'Pol.

"Suppressing emotion, iron discipline, the proper Vulcan way, and all that jazz," said Trip. "I didn't think you were interested in discussing feelings."

"Vulcans strive to master destructive emotions, and modulate our responses to overwhelming emotional stimulus," said T'Pol, "but we still have emotions, Trip."

"Duly noted, T'Pol," said Trip. "So I take it you would like to discuss things now?"

"No," said T'Pol. "We do not have enough time now. You are correct in the assumption that it would be quite difficult to explain my egress from your quarters at this time. But soon."

"All right," said Trip, pressing T'Pol's plump kissable lips with his own, and then the Vulcan slid from the bed in order to get dressed, and minutes later she was gone, after a last fervent kiss.

* * *

The appointed hour had come, and the Romulans were on the move at various places across the Earth.

The Imperial Marines moved subtly, with pinpoint precision and the minimum fuss required to complete their missions, yet they'd never hesitate to rock & roll at the drop of a dime and turn things into a blood bath, if such conduct was required to complete their missions. The Imperial Shrikes moved more subtly still, as virtual ghosts, leaving few traces of their comings and their goings: only their deeds would announce that Imperial Shrikes had paid visit in service to the Star Empire.

The D'Hael's teams were on the move along with all the others at this place, teams 1 & 2 working on the dormitories building, teams 3 & 4 sweeping the laboratories where work work went on day and night, teams 5 through 8 sweeping the Research & Development buildings where much of the cutting edge research took place, while team 9 and the D'Hael's own team, 10, moved through the Administrative Building which was also a 24/7 affair, every Romulan on the Dhael's team dressed in voluminous Vulcan robes which better concealed their weapons. Each team had their assignments to complete, and fall back tasks to reinforce and aid the others in the completion of their tasks, and all that in order to successfully accomplish tonight's mission.

That they would succeed was never in question: they were the elite light-infantry and special-ops soldiers of the Romulan Star Empire.


	16. Chapter 16

— **Chapter 16 —**

* * *

The various Romulan attacks launched that fateful night lasted ninety-one minutes in full, and in the course of that time everything changed, as there was no way to keep a lid on what happened, no way to mince words, no way to make those attacks seem as less than what they were… and they were a horror. The list was long, and included some two dozen assassinations spread about various cities around the world, as well as three times that many cases of arson & sabotage at vital StarFleet facilities or that of their sub-contractors, but the targets most notably savaged were:

#1. The StarFleet campus was hardest hit, when the Romulans interrupted the air conditioning cycle in the dormitories and filtered the air cycling through the building through fifteen pounds of some hereto unknown moist sponge like material which quickly poisoned and killed some 2,800 hundred StarFleet cadets in their sleep, along with a 100 or so instructors and supervisors. Another 400 hundred techs and scientists working through the night in the labs of the Research & Development building met the same fate, likewise poisoned by that same invisible, potent and scentless gas. Lastly, some 200 hundred additional personnel in StarFleet's HQ building were killed, most of them cut down by cold steel or poisoned darts fired from some type of airgun, as the Imperial Shrikes moved stealthily through the sparsely populated building. Three admirals, fourteen captains, and an additional fifty-two commanders, lieutenants and ensigns filled out the death list, with the rest being a mixture of enlisted crewmen, contract workers, civilian techs and consultants. And then the fires began to burn. By the time that the Tactical & Security cadets on patrol rushed the now burning buildings, it was too late to help anyone inside, and when the Human cadets tried to pin down and contain the attackers, they were flanked and cut down en masse by professional soldiers of a caliber which few species in the known universe could field, and after all that the Romulans retreated from the area in good order even as the first responders began fighting the fires, and searching for survivors, in no way certain of what they'd just walked in on.

#2. The Seichii Labs Industrial complex in Japan, a subsidiary of Katachi Industries, suffered much the same fate as StarFleet's HQ complex, though the loss of life there numbered 'only' some 1,400 hundred people, essentially the night shift working in that complex, and most of them died due to the same poison gas used in StarFleet's campus, after which the Romulans torched the entire facility. Worse yet, from a strategical point of view, that industrial complex built the most precise instrumentation and warp drive components, all of which found use on StarFleet's newest ships of the line. No one else had been able to match the quality of Seichii Labs, and the loss of these industrial labs would haunt StarFleet soon enough.

#3. The Sandpoint Assembly plant in Idaho, another vital asset which played a pivotal role in the assembly of major ship to ship weapons systems, such as the phaser banks and photon torpedo launchers was essentially torn apart by a small matter/anti-matter bomb which killed most of the 800 workers which made up the night shift at the plant, as well as the entire security force in charge of securing this facility.

#4. The Gruner-Berg Stahl Komplex in Germany, which produced the majority of the premium metal alloys used in the construction of StarFleet's hull plating was also completely destroyed by the detonation of a matter-antimatter bomb, with the loss of 2,500 lives there.

The loss of those four major assets was bad enough, but that was not the end of it, for a never ending stream of assassinations, sabotage and arson would continue for the next five years, though no one could have predicted such things at that particular point in time. Worse yet, there were two dozen more major incidents in the course of those five years, incidents every bit as damaging as this first day, and this despite the combined efforts of Earth's intelligence services, StarFleet Intelligence, Section 31 and the V'Shar to contain and exterminate the Romulan troops.

In any case, the scope of the current attack and the sheer viciousness of it was too much to contain, despite the combined efforts of StarFleet Intelligence and EarthGov alike, and three days later EarthGov's President addressed Earth. He spoke of the Romulans, he noted their shared genetic ancestry with the Vulcans, made it clear that the war between Earth, Vulcan and the Romulans had been initiated a year or so ago, but it had truly kicked off three days past. The public mood was somber and opinion split, even as the images of smoking buildings and seemingly endless corpses served as a sobering sight for the entire planet.

* * *

"Are you doing this on purpose, Lt. Reed?" said Archer. "Are you trying to make us look like idiots?"

He did it again. Archer went off on Reed on the Bridge, though perhaps this time it was somewhat understandable: everyone had heard of the Romulan attack on Earth, but StarFleet told Archer's squadron to continue drilling… this sort of thing would save lives when a shooting war in space finally began, but everyone aboard the Enterprise was in a bad mood.

"No, Captain," said Reed, red faced now, but it truly wasn't his fault that two of the Delus ships were not yet in the proper position to perfect the sensor net. "The Falcon and the Valley Forge are out of formation, and our sensor net is suffering as a result."

"All I get from you are excuses, Lt. Reed," said Archer, "and I'm getting tired of them."

"Yes, sir," said Malcolm, biting his tongue, though he was truly growing weary of Archer busting his balls.

"Don't just 'yes, sir' me, Lieutenant," said Archer. "Do better, or find me someone who can."

"With all due respect, Captain," said Reed, "if you find that my work is not up to your standards I will put in for a transfer at the earliest opportunity."

"Or you could just do your job," said Archer. "Let's try that."

"Yes, sir," said Reed, both furious and humiliated now.

* * *

"I'm sorry I disturbed you," said T'Pol, rising out of Trip's bed.

She'd come here directly at the end of her shift for her needs were demanding and T'Pol had no desire to seek relief with anyone but Commander Tucker, for T'Pol had come to a decision. She would have to speak to Archer later, and Reed as well, thank them both for their assistance and reinforce the need for secrecy, but T'Pol was certain of her course now: Commander Tucker would see her through the completion of this cycle… and perhaps beyond it.

Trip mumbled something incoherent, already falling back to sleep before T'Pol was even fully dressed, as he'd worked the previous night's shift as Acting Captain and had then spent half of the day shift in Engineering, and the man was beat.

"Trip?" said T'Pol, and then the Vulcan noted that Trip had curled up in his blankets already, like a hamster curled up in cedar shavings, and she bent over to kiss the man.

Trip mumbled something, and then pulled the blanket over his head, lightly snoring before T'Pol had even left his cabin.

* * *

Minutes later, T'Pol requested access to Archer's Ready Room, and stood before the captain's desk, waiting for the man's notice: he'd been in a bad mood lately, and it was obvious to all. No doubt, what T'Pol had to discuss with him now would not improve his mood, for T'Pol knew that Archer had enjoyed their couplings.

"What can I do for you, T'Pol?"

"I wish to speak with you on a personal matter," said T'Pol.

"What's that?" said Archer.

"I am regaining control of my drives, Captain," said T'Pol, "and I do not believe that I will require any more assistance in the matter."

Archer darkened at hearing that, a flash of jealousy spiking his irritation, for he was certain that Reed was the cause of T'Pol's newfound discipline, but the man breathed deeply, and composed himself… it was what it was, and truthfully, it had been fun.

"I understand," said Archer.

T'Pol nodded, and said, "Once again, Captain. I am grateful for your assistance, and your discretion, and I hope I may continue to count upon that discretion."

"Of course, T'Pol."

With that, T'Pol left the Ready Room, and passed by Lt. Reed on the Bridge. She'd intended to give him the same speech she'd just given Archer, sometime today, but… on second thought, better wait until Commander Tucker's duty schedule and her's were better synced, before cutting Reed loose.

* * *

"Oh, my God," said Hoshi, her eyes animated as she spoke to Trip, for the man had slept five hours after T'Pol had left his cabin and now felt well enough, even though he was eating his breakfast at 2300 hours, in preparation for his night shift on the Bridge. "You wouldn't believe it, Commander."

"Wouldn't believe what?" said Trip, somewhat amused that Hoshi had started gossiping as soon as he'd set his meal tray down, and before he'd taken his first bite of food.

That simple question on Trip's part was enough to set Hoshi off, and as Hoshi spoke of Archer's irritable mood and his seeming delight in venting his ire on Malcolm, Trip was torn. On the one hand, Jon was his friend and his captain, and Hoshi speaking in this manner was not something to be encouraged, but as a commander such things were important to know. Plus, Hoshi generally avoided badmouthing the chain of command, so this was her way of bringing this all to his attention without taking any formal action which might cause trouble for everyone.

"Ok, you did good by telling me," said Trip, after hearing Hoshi out. "Now, listen, you keep your mouth shut, don't spread this stuff around. I'll talk things over with Malcolm next time I see him, and then we go from there."

"Yes, Commander," said Hoshi, quite satisfied that she'd gotten her point across, and hoping that Trip would make Archer ease off Malcolm… that is to say, Lt. Reed.

* * *

"I have good news, and bad," said Harris, looking across the diner table at Sek.

"What's the good news?" said Sek, taking a sip of good, strong, Arabica coffee.

"We've gotten close to breaking a Romulan without killing him," said Harris. "Or maybe that's an exaggeration. Closer anyway."

"How?" said Sek, quite interested, for it was a neat trick, something which they'd not yet managed to do.

"They're more robust than Humans," said Harris, "so about ten days of steep sleep deprivation and hunger, followed by a chemical cocktail to disorient them, and lower their inhibitions, then you question them. It doesn't trigger them the same way as your mind melds."

"Ok," said Sek, digesting the information. "As to this chemical cocktail—"

"Here's the protocol," said Harris sliding a PADD unit towards Sek.

"All right," said Sek, pocketing the PADD, and then looked at Harris. "So that's the good news. What is the bad news?"

"The bad news is that it doesn't give us anything, Sek," said Harris. "These guys kept things on a need to know basis, and they practice good security. If they lose a man, they move, they disappear, who the fuck knows where they go? We've raided four 'safe houses' so far, and got nothing to show for it. They were all abandoned. But something may come of it, sooner or later."

Sek nodded in understanding, and said, "So what now?"

"Now I get a slice of coconut meringue pie and a cup of coffee," said Harris. "This is the first thing I've had time to eat today."

"All right," said Sek, and waited for Harris to return with his pie, and coffee.

Just as he was about to start eating, Harris remembered something, and reached into his jacket's pocket and laid a dagger in front of Sek, and the workmanship of it was clearly not Human. Sek picked up the dagger, unsheathed it, and looked it over carefully, noting the ten inch double edged blade with a five inch hilt, a blade some two inches wide through much of its length, and made of some dark-green metal alloy with an odd shine to it as if the metal was wet, even when dry. The hilt was excellently detailed and textured with a large dot pattern which provided an excellent grip. The workmanship was outstanding, though this was clearly a dagger meant for field use, and Sek raised a brow at Harris.

"Flip it over," said Harris.

Sek did so, and noted an insignia etched into the blade, close to the hilt: a bird of prey with outstretched wings, it's two talons extended towards the tip of the blade, a planet clutched in each claw.

"Romulan," said Sek, as he'd seen that insignia before.

"Yes," said Harris.

"Where did you get it?" said Sek.

"It was jammed in Admiral Bradford's heart during the Romulan attack on StarFleet's campus," said Harris. "A calling card of sorts, I would imagine."

"So why give it to me?" said Sek.

"Your metallurgists have a great deal of experience with alien metals and alloys," said Harris. "Have them analyze this blade, maybe they can tell us something useful about this metal: where it's mined, what are it's precise properties, anything useful at all."

"Will do," said Sek, sheathing the dagger.

"All right," said Harris, pushing his plate away. "I've got to go. We'll talk soon. Your turn to pick up the check."

Sek nodded and reached for his wallet, as Harris took off.


	17. Chapter 17

— **Chapter 17 —**

* * *

"Mr. Paxton," said that man's secretary, "I have Congressman Osbourne here."

"I'll be right there," said Paxton.

A moment later Paxton stepped into his waiting room to greet Michael Osbourne personally and lead the man into his office. A short time later both men were seated, each with a drink in hand, and Paxton got to the point.

"Michael," said Paxton, "I'm grateful for your time. I'm sure your schedule is packed, more so now, in view of the Romulan attacks which took place so recently."

Michael nodded in agreement with Paxton. The brutality and effectiveness of the Romulan attacks had come as a shock to the majority of Earth's inhabitants, and politicians of every stripe were scrambling to stake out their position on the matter, and rally voters to their cause.

"A good number of politicians have spoken in favor of us steering clear of this war between the Vulcans and the Romulans, but you're one of the most effective speakers which I've heard addressing this issue, Michael," said Paxton. "You clearly see that the Vulcans are dragging us into this war, against our interests."

"That's true," said Osbourne, "and I take it that you agree with me?"

"I do," said Paxton. "We need people like you in Washington, Michael, but I understand you're looking at a tough fight to retain your seat in the coming elections."

"Oh, yeah," said Osbourne. "The campaign is going to be a grind, and if I lose my seat, Derrick is rolling over and voting for closer ties with the Vulcans. She's already on record as saying that Humans and Vulcans have to stick together."

"That's why you're here, Michael," said Paxton. "We have to get your message out, and in order to do that we need you in D.C., as a sitting Congressman."

"So I can count on your vote, eh?" said Osbourne.

"You can count on me for far more than that, Michael," said Paxton. "I'm going to make a hefty donation to your campaign, as well as put you in touch with a the best PR firm in the business. You're gonna win your reelection campaign, Michael, and then you're going to become a major figure in defending this planet from alien conflicts. Do a good job, and I'll finance your Senate run next, and then who knows. The sky is the limit, Michael. You understand?"

"I do," said Michael, his eyes excited at the possibilities opening up for him now, for Paxton's wealth was legendary.

"Good," said Paxton. "You and I are going to do good things together, Congressman. Now, I've got meetings with lobbyists all week long, and we're going to have them work to promote our agenda from their end, Michael. You're not in this alone. Just be ready for lots and lots of media appearances, and let our PR people guide you."

"You got it!" said Osbourne. "I'm ready to kick some ass, John!"

Paxton smiled at that, and toasted Osbourne's fire: the man was a pitbull.

* * *

The door's chime announced a visitor to the captain's Ready Room, and Archer said, "Enter."

A moment later, Lt. Reed entered the room, and said, "You asked to see me, Captain?"

Archer nodded, and leaned back in his chair, looking at Reed standing at attention in front of the captain's desk.

"We've got ten more days of gaming with the Vulcan Navy," said Archer. "The situation in Tactical has notably improved since we began these war games, but we can do better. Given what's happened on Earth, it's only a matter of time until a shooting war starts, Lieutenant, and this ship will be ready for war. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Captain," said Reed.

"Good," said Archer. "In addition, I would also suggest setting aside all other… distractions, Lieutenant."

"Distractions, Captain?"

"T'Pol," said Archer, just barely containing his jealousy.

That Archer knew of him and T'Pol surprised Malcolm, but he said, "I can explain, Captain."

"No need," said Archer, too jealous to discuss the matter and wonder once more of why he'd been tossed over for Reed, "so long as Tactical gets it's shit together."

"Captain, I was helpin—"

"Dismissed," said Archer.

"Yes, sir," said Reed, and moments later the man was gone from the room.

* * *

Some twenty minutes after Malcolm had left the Ready Room, Trip entered, and Archer smiled, pleased to see this visitor. Trip was the best Chief Engineer in StarFleet, and better yet, the two had been friends a long time.

"What's the word, Trip?"

"Things running smoothly in Engineering," said Trip, dropping off the latest readiness reports.

He could have simply emailed those reports to Archer through the ship's intranet, but he was heading for the Mess Hall, so it was no bother to drop a PADD unit off, directly on Archer's desk.

"Good," said Archer, walking to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of Risan klicy and two glass tumblers.

Booze aboard the Enterprise was somewhat controlled, though every officer knew that much of the crew had snuck a bottle or two aboard the ship, but as long as they caused no trouble over that fact, that matter was tolerated. In any case, that applied only to the crew and the junior officers. The captain was free to drink openly, and the senior officers allowed to enjoy pilfering his stock.

"Thanks," said Trip, moments later when Archer handed him a glass three-quarters full.

"Cheers," said Archer, clinking glasses with Trip.

"This is good," said Trip appreciatively: it was his first taste of klicy.

"Mmmm, hmmm," said Archer, and they talked ship's business for some ten minutes longer.

"Ok, I'll leave you then," said Trip. "I have to return to Engineering soon, but I need to wolf something down, right this minute."

"All right," said Archer, coming round the desk, and slapping Trip on the back.

Moments later, the two men walked onto the Bridge and Trip shot T'Pol a private wink, which the Vulcan noted, yet did not visibly acknowledge, and with that, Trip left the Bridge.

"Captain," said T'Pol, for she'd guessed Trip's destination. "If you do not mind, I could use a bite to eat."

"Sure, T'Pol," said Archer. "Go."

T'Pol nodded, and soon after caught up with Commander Tucker, who was waiting for the turbo-lift.

"Commander," said T'Pol, her voice cool, but her eyes silently interrogating the man.

"SubCommander," said Trip, smiling slightly.

Just then the lift door opened and Trip gestured that T'Pol should enter first, then followed her into the lift.

Once inside, T'Pol said, "Mess Hall?"

Trip nodded, and T'Pol pressed the button for E Deck.

"Thanks," said Trip.

T'Pol looked at the man, waiting for more, and finally sensing nothing more was forthcoming from Commander Tucker at this time, the Vulcan leaned close and kissed Trip on the cheek.

Trip smiled and said, "That was unexpected, but appreciated. What brought that on?"

Before T'Pol could respond, the lift door opened and revealed two crewmen waiting for the lift, which stifled T'Pol's response, so the Vulcan merely stepped out of the lift.

"You're heading for the Mess Hall too?" said Trip, following T'Pol.

"Yes."

"Lucky me," said Trip sincerely, as he and T'Pol were getting along quite well these days… quite well: perhaps I should make things official, thought Trip, though the impulse would surely seem silly to T'Pol.

* * *

"Excuse me, you are Professor Kendric, no?"

Kendric turned, to see an attractive enough Vulcan with the face of a young woman. A brief glance told Kendric that she was the only one of her kind here. She seemed harmless enough in any case, but you never knew these days, what with the Romulans going about their nasty business, moving about by using Vulcans as a camouflage against detection.

"And you are?" said Kendric, having taken note of this one's proper British accent: she'd been here a while, no doubt long before the Romulan death squads had arrived on Earth. Well, probably so.

"Ah, excuse me, Professor," said the Vulcan. "I am Liska. I apologize for interrupting your solitude, but I promised Beth Jannis that I would say hello to you if our paths crossed during my time here."

"You know Beth?" said Kendric, smiling now. "She was one of my best pupils."

"I am something of her protege," said Liska. "She's told me of some of the exciting research you are pioneering for StarFleet's propulsion laboratories, Professor. It all sounded so exciting."

"Well, that's something we can't talk about," said Kendric, "and frankly I'm displeased that Beth even mentioned it to you. It's all kind of hush, hush, but I wanted her input on a particular issue."

"Oh," said Liska. "I apologize for distressing you Professor. I suspect I am the only person she's discussed this matter with, given how closely we work together. Please forgive her."

"What's done is done," said Kendric, "but I will phone her tomorrow and stress the need for discretion."

Liska nodded, and said, "I apologize, Professor."

"It's ok," said Kendric: Liska seemed slightly distressed, which meant something coming from a Vulcan. "Would you like to join me for a drink?"

"Certainly," said Liska, seemingly relieved that the good professor was not holding a grudge.

Minutes later, the two were seated at the bar, a glass of wine before them both, and the talk turned to Kendric's favorite subject: himself, and his research outside of StarFleet's particular areas, and two hours, and five more glasses of wine passed before Kendric took note of the time on his second trip back from the bathroom this night.

"I'm truly enjoying this conversation, Liska," said Kendric. "Would you like to continue it upstairs, in my suite? We'd be more comfortable."

"I am afraid I can not, as I have an appointment for this evening with some of my colleagues," said Liska, and Kendric was too deep into his wine to hide his disappointment, but Liska was not finished speaking. "I am however free all day tomorrow. I know that you're one of the guest speakers at this conference, and I am looking forward to that, but if you could make some time for me anytime tomorrow, that would be lovely, Professor."

Kendric's face brightened at that, for he'd truly enjoyed his time with this attractive Vulcan, who had become even more attractive in the course of their conversation.

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Liska," said Kendric. "We'll make a day of it!"

Liska nodded agreeably, and even gave Kendric a smile, slight enough to be acceptable to both Vulcan and Human, and minutes later, they parted. Still a bit later than that, Kendric made his hotel suite and stretched out on his bed, where he fell asleep in short order. He would never wake again, for Liska, skilled Tal Shiar operative that she was, had found no difficulty in poisoning Kendric's wine in the course of the night. He'd been just another target to her, though she'd truly enjoyed their conversation. No matter: such was life, in service to the Star Empire.

* * *

"Now, I have already told you once before," said Doctor Viset to his recalcitrant patient. "Go to bed, Soval. If you would heal, you need rest."

"I still have work to do, Doctor," said Soval from a hospital bed, in an admittedly pleasant private suite.

Soval had been returned to Vulcan after the Romulan attack which nearly took his life, and the process of recovery, though lengthy and tedious, was not unbearable, and if Soval worked too long on his official duties, well, it was a welcome relief from the tedium of being confined to this hospital.

"You are too stubborn a patient, Soval," said the doctor. "Perhaps I will have a couple of our orderlies bind you to the bed, in order to teach you to take your doctor's orders seriously."

"Mmmm, hmmm," said Soval, absent-mindedly, engrossed in the reports of the continuing pattern of Romulan attacks on both, Earth and Vulcan.

It was clear that Soval had every intention of remaining a defiant patient, so the doctor sighed and left Soval's room, making his way past the four Vulcan guards posted outside the ambassador's room and finally leaving Soval alone with his thoughts.

It was apparent even to Soval that the tempo of the Romulan attacks was increasing, even if the attacks were less spectacular than the first wave, but it was impressive, from a technical point, that the Romulans were still evading the security forces in pursuit of them, while still carrying out their missions. Some sixty-eight Romulans had been accounted for by now, as either bodies or prisoners, but no one knew their total number, not even the Romulans, and no one had captured a high ranking Romulan who had an overview of the situation, as Romulans made a habit of fighting to the death, or committing suicide if capture seemed imminent.

Switching over to the diplomatic reports, Soval found that neither the Risans nor the Regulans had responded positively to Vulcan efforts to involve them in a defensive alliance, and Tellar was still in the wind. Trouble was, the most valuable ally in this sector of space, the most warlike and the most effective, were the Andorians… and to say that the relations between Vulcan and Andoria were tense, was to say the very least: they'd been on the brink of war a dozen times, with a number of bloody skirmishes fought already over the years. That the Andorians would aid the Vulcans in resisting the Romulans seemed a pipe dream…

A flash of insight caused Soval to consider something new, and he said softly, "Perhaps the Humans might be of help here."


	18. Chapter 18

— **Chapter 18 —**

* * *

"No, no," mumbled Trip, still half asleep even as T'Pol ran her hands over his chest, and then his stomach, and then lower still, her hands now handling an explosive package. "T'Pol, I need some sleep before I begin my night shift!"

"Nonsense," said T'Pol, who'd come to Trip's quarters as soon as her shift ended in order to satisfy her needs, for although Lieutenant Reed was available, she was inexorably drawn to Commander Tucker almost exclusively now, despite the fact that he was not the logical choice at this time of day. "You can sleep after you meet your obligations to me, Commander Tucker."

Trip mumbled something intelligible and then buried his face in a pillow, but T'Pol was relentless, her touch and her kisses chipping away at the man's resolve until Trip finally broke down and gave T'Pol exactly what she'd come for, and he gave it to her with a good deal of force and abandon as payback for depriving him of sleep, no matter how delightful the interruption. Ironically, Trip's roughness and aggression had an unintended outcome, as T'Pol left the man's quarters practically purring with satisfaction.

* * *

It was 2300 hours by the time Trip finally left his quarters in order to make way for the Mess Hall, and a late night breakfast or dinner, whatever the freaking name this late night meal of his deserved. Still, he had an hour to eat it before his presence was required on the Bridge, so that was something noteworthy, at least: the previous night he'd not managed to extricate himself from T'Pol's sweet scented grasp and greedy kisses in time to eat, and as a result he'd starved all night long: not that she cared about that!

The Mess Hall was lightly staffed at this time of night, but Chef's crew took care of business properly even so, and Trip nodded approvingly at the appealing buffet on offer for the late eaters of the night shift. Good deal!

After making a pass by the beverage dispenser, Trip passed through the buffet line and loaded up. A big portion of Chef's four cheese lasagna, half a broiled chicken breast with a properly rendered skin so crispy you'd kill or die for, some stir-fried broccoli and a 3" thick slice of lemon poundcake with a caramelized sugar crust. Yummy!

Food in hand, fortune smiled on Trip once again as he turned to survey the Mess Hall: his favorite corner table was wide open, and it was a favorite because it provided one with a great view out the wide window, while also serving as a proper vantage point from which to observe those coming into, or leaving, the Mess Hall.

Just as Trip had begun eating, Malcolm walked into the Mess Hall and the lieutenant brightened a bit when he saw Trip, and after a brief detour of his own through the beverage station, Malcolm approached Trip's table with a mug of hot tea in hand.

"Long time no see," said Malcolm, while taking a seat.

Strictly speaking that wasn't quite true, as their respective paths crossed daily during the shift change from night to day, but Trip understood Malcolm's meaning, for the words were accurate in a social sense, as they'd not had much time to hang out during the course of these Vulcan war games.

"Yep, but this will soon be over," said Trip. "So what's going on with you, Malcolm?"

They spoke of ship's business for a bit, then the doings on day shift, and then Trip remembered his earlier conversation with Hoshi.

"Hey, what's going on with you and the captain?" said Trip. "Hoshi tells me he's been going after you pretty hard."

"He has," said Malcolm, "and he's right to do so. I mean it's not fair that the Vulcans have better sensors than us, better speed, and so on, but war's not fair. I should be able to compensate."

"Yeah, but I hear he's ripping into you mercilessly," said Trip. "You want me to talk to him, explain in technical terms what you're up against?"

"No, I won't make excuses," said Malcolm. "Besides I have a feeling this thing is a bit personal too, so don't say anything to the captain. Just leave it alone."

"Personal?" said Trip, surprised, for Jon usually treated his people well. "He's always liked you, Malcolm, and I know that he respects you professionally. So what the hell did you do to him? Drink out of his coffee cup?"

"Yes. No. Maybe," said Malcolm.

"I don't know what any of that means, Malcolm."

"This is just between us, Trip," said Malcolm.

Trip nodded his agreement with Malcolm's words, and said, "Ok."

"T'Pol and I have gotten sexually involved," said Malcolm, and he was not surprised to see Trip freeze at that little homily, fork halfway to his mouth, "and the captain knows about it, and he clearly doesn't approve."

"Say what?" said Trip, setting his fork down now. "Malcolm, are you screwing with me?"

"No, it's true," said Malcom, smiling at Trip's astonishment. "I know, I know, I don't blame you. Hell, I don't even believe it myself, now that I've said it out loud."

"How long you two been at it?" said Trip, and though his face hadn't changed a whit, his heart hammered in his chest.

"We began sometime after you left for your away mission on that Vulcan shipyard, T'Lek Sor, or whatever the name," said Malcolm.

"Are you two in love?" said Trip, something cold gripping his heart, or perhaps that was his heart turning to stone.

"No," said Malcolm. "It had to do with that artificially induced pon'farr mating cycle, Trip. She said she needed my help to deal with the symptoms."

Trip pushed his plate away, food largely uneaten, as he felt sick to his stomach now.

"Trip?" said Malcolm. "You all right?"

"What?" said Trip, and then noting the look of concern on Malcolm's face, Trip composed himself. "I'm fine."

"What's wrong?" said Malcolm.

"Nothing. Listen, we'll talk about this later, but Jon wants to speak with me before I start my shift," said Trip, lying through his teeth, but he needed to end this conversation now: he had to think. "Something about the Vulcans and tonight's maneuvers."

"Sure, we'll talk later," said Malcolm, and moments later Trip left the Mess Hall.

* * *

In truth, though Trip had practically fled the Mess Hall after he'd heard Malcolm speak his bit about T'Pol, he didn't really have to speak to Archer. Instead, he headed directly for the IT department, where Crewman Miyan was on duty by herself now, the other two members of this department apparently attending to their duties elsewhere.

"Ah, Commander Tucker," said Miyan, "what can I do for you?"

"I just need the use of a terminal," said Trip. "Security tells me that some of the internal cameras are acting up, and I need to check on this."

Miyan nodded her understanding, as she was aware that the Enterprise was equipped with an extensive internal security net, composed of numerous sensors and cameras, which had been installed for the purpose of providing vital data to the command crew in case of emergencies: should the Enterprise ever be boarded by a hostile force, for example, or a fire break out, battle damage, etc…

"I see," said Miyan. "Let me know if I may be of any assistance, Commander Tucker."

"Right," said Trip, and with that, Miyan went about her duties, leaving Trip to his own devices.

Once seated in front of a terminal, Trip pulled up a list of the entire crew's alpha-numerical ID numbers. Each crewman had their own uniforms with a passive RFID tag affixed to each uniform, and this type of tag had been added to all of T'Pol's Vulcan uniforms as well after she'd boarded the ship, seemingly so long ago. The purpose of the tags was to allow the location of each crewman about the ship to be determined at any time, and it was a handy feature in emergencies, allowing command to determine who was where, who needed help, who could help the needy, etc…

A single mouse click, and T'Pol's ID number was highlighted, and then with the press of a few keys and another mouse click, Trip initiated a reverse playback of T'Pol's movements through the ship at 32X speed, from that day to two months earlier, when he'd left the ship for the T'Lek Sor. There were a number of ways to view the data, and the way in which Trip chose to view it altered the monitor to a split screen mode, one side running down T'Pol's location throughout the ship at each particular moment as a long wall of text, while the other side of the screen showed those movements as a red dot overlaid on a schematic of the Enterprise.

Trip simply watched the dot, and read the text descriptions, and the pattern was immediately clear. Looking at the time-stamps, T'Pol had spent an unusual amount of time in either Jon's cabin, or Malcolm's, and she'd done this at the oddest hours, and with that data at hand, Trip knew immediately that Malcolm was speaking truthfully, and what's more, Trip knew the reasons for Jon's uncharacteristic behavior towards Malcolm: pure jealousy. T'Pol was banging them all, and causing friction between captain and lieutenant in the process.

This is great, thought Trip. This is all just fucking great!

* * *

Trip spent the rest of the night in the captain's chair, dealing with the matters of integrating the Enterprise and its small squadron of ten Delus ships with the Vulcan fleet, and though the process was precise, it was also familiar by now, as his ships took turns 'evacuating' a larger Vulcan ship, which was supposedly about to lose it's warp containment field in forty minutes, by which time each of the Delus ships was required to make contact with the 'distressed' Vulcan ship and hold for a predetermined time, before making room for the next Human ship to dock, and the next, and the next, all presumably in order to evacuate the crew of the Vulcan ship.

Trip watched all this taking place and coordinated the ballet of steel ships gliding in and out, even as the better part of him focused on T'Pol, Jon and Malcolm, and then the Enterprise took it's turn in the 'evacuation'. Eventually, time ran out, and the drill was repeated again, and this time the Vulcans took their turn simulating the rescue of Humans from their ships.

All that was background chatter to Trip, for he'd been close to devastated by hearing the words Malcolm had spoken earlier of T'Pol, and Trip had no answer to any of it. Not yet.

Oh, he could reason out some of it, as T'Pol had explained the problems created by her artificially induced pon'farr and its effects on her physiology, but she'd never once mentioned Jon or Malcolm… worse yet, the way Jon was dumping on Malcolm now, it was uncharacteristic of the man, and it could and probably would adversely affect Malcolm's career if it continued much longer.

This is such fucking bullshit! thought Trip, hating this whole thing now and hating that he was entangled in it, hating that he was entangled with T'Pol. And so it went all night long for Trip, his thoughts alternating between paying attention to his duties and thinking of T'Pol, but eventually the night shift drew to a close and Archer stepped on the Bridge at 0740 hours, and smiled at Trip.

"Status?" said Archer.

"All's well, Captain," said Trip, in the lie of the century.

"Good," said Jon, and headed for his Ready Room, as it was the captain's habit to glance over the reports filed by the night shift crew, before starting his shift at 0800 hours.

"Tactical," said Trip, looking at the night shift's Tactical officer, "you have the conn."

"Aye, sir," said Heller, and a moment later Trip headed for the captain's Ready Room.

* * *

"Enter," said Archer, in response to the chime which announced a visitor to the Ready Room, and a moment later, Trip entered the room, and Archer gave Trip a friendly nod. "What's up, Trip?"

Trip took a seat, leaned back in his chair, a grim look on his face.

"What's wrong?" said Archer, shoving his paperwork aside, as it was clear that Trip was upset about something.

"I'm going to ask you a question, Jon," said Trip, and the fact that he'd used the man's name instead of his rank, told Archer that this was a personal matter, "and I'd appreciate a direct answer."

"Sure," said Archer. "Go for it."

"Have you and T'Pol been sexually involved in the past two months?" said Trip.

Of all the possible questions which Archer might have expected Trip to ask this morning, this question was not among them.

"What's this about, Trip?" said Archer, wary now.

"Never mind," said Trip. "I've known you long enough that I can read the answer on your face, Jon. Would you ask Malcolm to join us please."

"Trip—"

"We've been friends a long time, Jon," said Trip. "I'm asking you for a favor. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we're not friends."

"We're friends, Trip. That's never gonna change," said Archer, and pressed a button on his desk to reach out to the night shift's Comm officer.

"Yes, Captain?" said the Comm officer.

"Ask Lt. Reed to report to my Ready Room, please."

"Yes, sir," said the Comm officer.

Five minutes later Malcolm entered the room and took note of the fact that Trip was there as well, a grim look on his face.

"Captain," said Malcolm, standing at attention.

"Commander Tucker asked to speak with both of us," said Archer. "Take a seat, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Captain," said Malcolm, and a moment later Jon and Malcolm looked at Trip expectantly.

"We've got a problem, and that problem is T'Pol," said Trip.

At hearing that, Archer ran a hand through his hair, while Malcolm simply adopted a damned good poker face.

"Look, we don't need to beat this thing to death," said Trip, "since we all know what's responsible for T'Pol's behavior and condition, but she's been having sex with all three of us."

On hearing that, both Archer and Reed looked quite surprised, and Trip grinned a grim smile at the looks on their faces.

"Yeah, I found out about you two clowns last night, when Malcolm said something, and I pieced it together," said Trip, "and I'm not pleased to be caught up in this thing you guys started while I was gone."

"Oh, hell, this is a nightmare," said Archer, and Malcolm nodded his head in agreement with the captain's sentiments.

"Thing is, Jon," said Trip, "you've been coming down pretty hard on Malcolm because of T'Pol. You knew about them, and you've been taking it out on him, out of jealousy."

Malcolm had already reasoned that matter out as soon as he'd heard Trip state that they'd all been with T'Pol, and he couldn't help but glance at Archer.

"You're right," said Archer after a moment's thought, and then Archer looked at Malcolm. "I apologize, Lieutenant. My actions were unprofessional."

"Nothing to apologize for, Captain," said Malcolm. "I was failing the ship in my official capacity, and I deserved your reprimand."

The two men made eye contact and nodded: an apology had been offered and politely accepted, and the bone of contention between them was now buried as easily as that.

"Good," said Trip. "In any case, this thing with T'Pol is not going to go away, which means you guys are screwed if I know my StarFleet regulations."

Trip was right about that.

Archer was officially forbidden to engage in sexual relations with his subordinate officers, and T'Pol was acting in that capacity while aboard the Enterprise. Worse yet, she was a Vulcan, and StarFleet would not want this whole thing to come out, and reveal that Archer had set aside custom and regulations just in order to bed a Vulcan.

For her part, T'Pol should have gone back to Vulcan if her need to mate was overpowering. She should not have crossed the line and mated with a random assortment of Humans, and the decisions she'd made would be considered embarrassing by the High Command, for they displayed a shocking lack of logic.

As for Lt. Reed, regulations also forbade Malcolm from engaging in a sexual relationship with a superior officer, so he was in trouble as well, just as deep as Archer or T'Pol.

The only one ostensibly in the clear was Trip, given that he and T'Pol were of equal rank, and relations between them were permissible under StarFleet regulations, if not actually encouraged. Trouble was, T'Pol was a Vulcan, and neither StarFleet nor the Vulcans would be thrilled by that relationship as a matter of course, but if the entirety of this thing came out, there would be a scandal which would make StarFleet seem to be a swinger's club, and Vulcans a party to it, which was not an image that EarthGov, StarFleet or Vulcan would welcome.

With all that in mind, StarFleet would simply cut it's losses and get rid of them all, probably after a court martial and a dishonorable discharge for Archer and Reed, while the High Command would recall T'Pol and shift her to a dead end desk job in an effort to keep her out of sight and out of mind.

"You're right. If this thing comes out, it will be a disaster," said Archer, and the man was angry now: he'd never have agreed to this if he'd known T'Pol was including others in the mix, and the thought of flushing his long career with StarFleet down the river over this whole matter was infuriating, "but what do you mean 'you' guys are screwed if this comes out, Trip? You're in the mix as well."

"Yeah, I can see why you might think that," said Trip, "but the truth is that I'm out of this sexual smorgasbord you guys have going on."

"Trip—" said Jon.

"Listen, Jon," said Trip, his voice hard, "I don't care what happens here, you understand? I've been crushing on T'Pol since the day I met her, and I was falling for her hard these past few weeks, but now that I see the whole picture, I want no part of this, and I want no part of her. So it's your problem to solve. You, Malcolm and T'Pol."

"Trip," said Malcolm, "if I'd known how you felt about T'Pol—"

"Forget about it, Malcolm," said Trip, pretending a detachment he did not truly feel. "What's done is done."

"You think HQ will spare you if you distance yourself from this now?" said Jon, taking another tack.

"Oh, no," said Trip. "I'm not that naive. I just don't give a shit. Given my education and exposure to alien forms of propulsion, shields and weapons, I can write my own ticket, Jon. I'll make twenty times what StarFleet's paying me, and though being out here isn't about the money for me, it will be a way of salvaging what I can from this situation. Again, I'm out. I'll talk to T'Pol later today if you want, I'll lay things out for her, but other than that, this thing's for you, Malcolm and T'Pol to figure out. That's the deal. Take it, or I'll just call HQ now and turn us all in, because I don't give a shit, you understand?"

Jon looked at Malcolm, and something was communicated between them silently: neither wanted to end their careers over this matter. They'd do what they had to do, and they'd keep their mouths shut.

"All right," said Jon. "You talk to her."

Trip nodded, seemingly much calmer than he felt, and then he left the Ready Room to pass through the Bridge on the way out. He felt T'Pol's eyes on him as he moved for the Bridge door, but he avoided her glance. He was still furious, and he had to get his head on straight before talking to her, so he simply made his exit, feeling T'Pol's eyes lingering on him the whole way out.


	19. Chapter 19

— **Chapter 19 —**

* * *

T'Pol's shift on the Bridge ended at 1800 hours and though she'd been restless all day, craving intimacy with Commander Tucker, she took the time to swing by her quarters first in order shower and change into a clean uniform. Her next stop was the Mess Hall, where T'Pol grabbed two go-cups of coffee before finally heading for Commander Tucker's quarters. Minutes later she reached the man's cabin, and after a subtle look to the rear in order to determine that no crewmen were in a position to see her next move, T'Pol gained quick access to Trip's quarters for she'd already taken the time to disable the security lock on the man's cabin from her station on the Bridge.

Once inside the cabin, T'Pol heard water running and her keen sense of smell detected the agreeable scent of the sandalwood infused shaving soap which Trip used, along with a straight razor, to get such close shaves, and apparently she'd caught him at the end of that process, for even as T'Pol set the coffee cups on the man's desk, Trip stepped into the room, toweling his face dry.

"I didn't hear you knock," said Trip, his voice cool.

"Forgive me," said T'Pol, her eyes lingering on the man's bare chest. "I brought coffee to make up for my faux pas."

"Thanks," said Trip, stepping over to his desk in order to take a sip of coffee. "It's good."

Unwilling to wait a moment longer, T'Pol approached Commander Tucker, leaning in to kiss the man even as she reached an arm to draw him closer, but to her surprise Trip gently grasped and moved that arm aside even as he pulled back from her kiss. T'Pol drew back at that, in order to study Trip intently.

"What? What is it?" said T'Pol.

"Why don't you take a seat," said Trip, leaning against his desk, after first handing T'Pol her cup of coffee.

T'Pol took the advice and sat on the edge of Trip's bunk. She took a sip of coffee, and looked up at Trip expectantly.

"This thing you're doing with Jon, Malcolm and I," said Trip. "I found out about it last night, T'Pol, and I'm out. I'm done with it."

On hearing that T'Pol paled noticeably, and she set her coffee cup on the floor, for her hands were shaking and her heart was racing.

"I can explain," said T'Pol.

"That's not necessary, T'Pol," said Trip. "I get it, an artificial pon'farr cycle was initiated in you, and a cascading set of physiological symptoms demanded that you mate. I learned enough about Vulcan physiology aboard the T'Lek Sor, enough to know that you had no choice but to obey your biological imperatives."

"Precisely so," said T'Pol, feeling a bit better now, for surely, since Commander Tucker understood the intensity of the forces at work here, there was no need for disagreement. "So why do you want to break things off with me?"

"Do you really want to get into this, T'Pol?" said Trip. "I don't."

"Yes, I do," said T'Pol. "We need to fix this, Trip. Tonight."

"Some things can't be fixed, T'Pol."

"Why not?" said T'Pol, and despite her toughness and her poise, the Vulcan looked fragile now.

"Fine, you want to go there, let's go there," said Trip, shaking his head in annoyance, for he'd hoped to quickly shut this thing down in a matter of minutes. "Look, you're playing games with all of us, T'Pol and you're bouncing in and out of our beds, sometimes one after the other, never having given any of us the courtesy of full disclosure and a clear choice which allows us to decide for ourselves if we want to be part of this circus, or not, and if you weren't lying to us openly, you were still lying by omission."

"Trip—"

"No, you wanted to talk, let's talk, T'Pol," said Trip. "Listen, I don't give a shit what you told Jon or Malcolm, but you drew me into an emotional and sexual relationship with you, and you did so under pretense, T'Pol, and I won't stand for it, or let it pass."

T'Pol sighed, and said, "I am sorry, Trip. I didn't mean any of this. It is just that the strength of the mating drive which—"

"Oh, for fucks sake, T'Pol," said Trip. "It wasn't the mating drive. The goal of the mating drive is to bind a mate, but as far as I can see, this was all about sex for you. You made no attempt to Bond any of us, or return to Vulcan to choose a Vulcan mate. So quit kidding yourself, and quit lying to me."

"I am not lying to you, Trip," said T'Pol, "and I remained on the Enterprise, I waited for you to return because I want you."

"So you say," said Trip, "but I've been back a month now, T'Pol, and you've fucked all three of us in that time, at times going from one man's bed to another, stopping in between just long enough to shower. That's nothing but calculated promiscuity, T'Pol. You used all three of us for your own satisfaction, and that type of behavior wasn't required by the mating drive. Those were the decisions you made about how deal with this matter, and they speak louder than words about the type of person you really are, so stop with the excuses. Now, you and I, we can still work together effectively, but I don't like you, I don't trust you, and I don't want to deal with you any longer. Got it?"

"Yes," said T'Pol, inwardly distressed by Commander Tucker's words, but realizing that the man was in too volatile a mood to discuss things rationally at the moment.

"Good," said Trip. "Now get out."

* * *

T'Pol had stood then, at that blunt dismissal from Commander Tucker's quarters, and though none of the agitation she felt showed in her body language, her heart raced, as did her thoughts. She'd known something was wrong the moment when the man had pushed her hand aside and drawn back from her touch, and T'Pol's first thought had been that the things she'd done had caught up with her, and despite the logical arguments she'd prepared in advance to deal with such and event, they'd all fled her mind in the presence of Commander Tucker, and that was unexpected.

She, a Vulcan, she, a specially trained operative who had faced death in the line of duty a dozen times or more, she'd practically panicked in the face of the commander's displeasure, and that was odd. Something about the man disarmed her defenses in a manner that neither Archer, nor Reed, could have accomplished. The question was, why?

That is a question to be answered another day, thought T'Pol. For now, I must figure out a way to win him back.

She held such thoughts because T'Pol was in no way ready to accept defeat, but she needed to retreat for now, regroup, and give the man time to breathe. There was nothing to be gained by speaking about this matter until Commander Tucker calmed down and viewed these events in their proper perspective, at which time they could discuss the matter logically, and negotiate a workable mechanism to bring them back together.

But clearly that was not going to happen tonight, and so T'Pol gave Commander Tucker a long and meaningful look, then left his quarters in turmoil, no matter that she projected the calm of a Zen garden to the crewmen she passed in the halls, on the way to her quarters.

Once there, T'Pol knelt in front of her meditation table, and lit the candle standing in the center of the table, noting with mild annoyance that the hand holding the lighter trembled. That was bad.

"What have I done?" said T'Pol softly, feeling something dangerously close to despair: only Vulcan discipline gave her the strength to hold back that negative emotion, yet even that discipline was being sorely tested by a Vulcan's intense emotions, generated to a much higher pitch than a Human's.

"I did what was necessary," said T'Pol firmly. "No more than that."

And were the games I played strictly necessary? she thought. Commander Tucker is right. I toyed with him, with them all, though I did not see that at the time. I thought myself beyond reproach, and I thought myself more clever and more practical then they, and now look at me, and look at the mess that I have made of things.

She sighed then and tried to silence her mind, but T'Pol's thoughts kept intruding.

I will have to change his mind quickly, or crawl back like a vethna in heat to Archer and Reed, while my mate… while Commander Tucker slips further from me with each passing day. Where is the logic in that? And if I am reduced to begging Archer and Reed to aid me once again, what can I rightfully expect from them? Humans can be so illogical at times, and if they hold my conduct against me as well, things will doubtlessly be awkward.

The candlelight, normally a soothing sight to T'Pol, seemed a feeble torch against the darkness in her quarters, or in her heart…

What if I've lost Trip, thought T'Pol. I've bedded Vulcans and Humans, and none of them have touched my emotions as deeply as he, or satisfied me physically as strongly as he? And now, when I stumble across something good in my life, something worth fighting for, I destroy it with my own hands.

She closed her eyes then, and attempted meditation, yet only wallowed deeper in her own misery.

I could return to Vulcan, thought T'Pol. I should return to Vulcan.

And yet, the thought of leaving StarFleet was intolerable, for by doing so, she'd be leaving Commander Tucker forever: outside of StarFleet, their paths would never cross.

So, what? thought T'Pol, a touch heated now. If he can not find it within himself to give me a second chance, why should I take care to keep him close? Perhaps this thing which draws me to him is mere infatuation, likely to vanish once these cursed symptoms leave my body.

And what if this is not infatuation, thought T'Pol, for she'd been attracted to the man long before this entire chain of events had begun playing havoc with her life. What if this feeling he engenders in me disappears from my life with him?

Good! Let it vanish from my life, along with him, thought T'Pol. I am a Vulcan, and logic serves me better than emotion. I will leave this ship, and return to my own people!

Yet even as she'd made that resolution, she knew it to be a farce, a weak ploy to comfort herself in her current misery.

Oh, Hasha, thought T'Pol, naming one of the harsh Vulcan gods from the time when that planet was ruled by passion, and awash in blood. What do I do?

Perhaps Hasha answered T'Pol's question, or perhaps it was just T'Pol's stubborn nature which refused to bow down to circumstances, but the answer was clear to T'Pol: I will do what I must to win my mate back to my side!


	20. Chapter 20

— **Chapter 20 —**

* * *

The next two days were a trial for T'Pol, as her need to mate warred with her desire to save herself for Commander Tucker alone, hoping that he'd change his mind… yet the man was disagreeably firm in maintaining the course he'd laid out for their interactions. He was professional, polite, and surprisingly even less argumentative than normal, and yet to her chagrin T'Pol realized that she missed those good natured arguments, and more so missed spending time with the man himself as Commander Tucker had been burying himself in work and thus avoiding her and Archer in the process, making it practically impossible for T'pol to speak with him privately.

When she'd actually managed to trap the man in his office, on her third attempt to do so, he'd said, "Look, T'Pol, give me a few weeks, a month, let me get over this thing, and we'll work something out so that things aren't awkward between us. All right?"

"Yes," she'd said, understanding his sentiments, and determined to honor his needs…

But two nights later she'd violated her own resolution and tried to access the commander's cabin after hours in order to plead her case, only to find that he'd tampered with the security device on his door and barred her access to his quarters, and that stung T'Pol for completely illogical reasons. Worst of all at this particular time, the man denied her his touch, and T'Pol suffered cruelly due to that purposeful neglect. Something would have to give. Soon.

* * *

Malcolm walked into Engineering, heading directly for Trip's office. He needed some help from this department, and though he could have simply logged a request for help, or reached out directly to Engineering through the ships comm system, he'd come here on something of a personal mission, as he'd been unable to stop thinking about this situation with Trip and T'Pol in which he'd been unwittingly embroiled.

The lieutenant held T'Pol in high professional esteem and he'd always been strongly attracted to the Vulcan, but Trip was his best friend and to the introverted and aloof Brit that meant something more than such things generally meant to most people… hell, Trip had been willing to commit suicide on Shuttlepod One in order to buy a subordinate officer and a friend a few more hours of oxygen and life, and thus provide a small increase in Malcolm's chances for survival.

And how have I repaid that type of loyalty and self-sacrifice? thought Malcolm.

The answer to that question was like a knife, thrust deep into the stomach, for Malcolm. He finally reached the door to Trip's office, and when Malcolm glanced inside, he saw Trip speaking with Dillard.

"Hey," said Trip, for he'd caught sight of the lieutenant immediately. "What can I do for you?"

"Commander," said Malcolm. "If you have a few minutes I have a request I'd like to run by you."

"Sure. Hold on," said Trip, then gave Dillard a few parting instructions while Malcolm waited.

"All right, Chief. We'll get right on it," said Dillard when Trip had finished speaking, and then Dillard made his way from the room.

"What's up, Malcolm?" said Trip, indicating that Malcolm should take a seat.

Malcolm handed Trip a PADD unit, a Personal Access Data Device, and they spent the next twenty minutes discussing the changes Malcolm had in mind for the Weapons Bay, from which the photon torpedoes were launched.

"So what do you think, Commander?" said Malcolm.

"I have no problems with the changes from a professional viewpoint, Malcolm," said Trip. "Nothing you're asking for interferes with mechanical efficiency. It's your department that handles weapons, so if you want this done… let's see, we can start on it two days from now, then we're looking at a four day turnabout to complete the job."

"I appreciate your attention to this project, Commander," said Malcolm.

"No problem," said Trip. "Now I've got an injector assembly to pull apart."

"Right," said Malcolm, standing, then made to head for the door, though he never made it out.

"Malcolm?" said Trip, puzzled that the man had stopped walking before leaving his office.

Malcolm closed the office door and turned around to face Trip.

"Trip," said Malcolm, "look, what happened with T'Pol, I swear I didn't know what you felt for her and I—"

"Malcolm," said Trip, "look, I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little butt-hurt over this whole thing, but there's really nothing to be done about it. Forget about it. I'm trying to do that now, and in time I will."

"I don't want to ruin our friendship over this, Trip," said Malcolm, "and I don't want to… you know, 'service' T'Pol any longer, and make things worse."

"Listen," said Trip, "I really don't want to talk about this, Malcolm, but you, Jon and T'Pol are in this pickle to the end, or this thing will blow up in your faces and ruin you all. What's done is done, but I don't want to talk about it any longer. Tell me you understand that, Malcolm."

"I do," said Malcolm, and opened the door. "All right, thanks again for humoring my request, and for the last time, I am sorry my part in this, Trip."

Trip nodded, and with that Malcolm left Trip to his thoughts.

* * *

Seated in the captain's chair, Jon was lost in thought as well, silently considering the fallout of that private conference with Trip and Malcolm, just a few days past.

He and Reed had made their peace easily enough once the shape of things was clear, as neither of them truly loved T'Pol as such, and whatever desires Jon had harbored for the Vulcan, desires for something more emotionally intimate, had evaporated at the distress this entire episode had caused Trip, a distress suppressed and supposedly dismissed, yet too strong to pass without notice by someone who'd known Trip for more than a decade.

"Captain," said Ensign Sato, bringing Jon out of his reverie. "I have a comm message for you from StarFleet, through Earth's Embassy on Vulcan."

"Send it to my Ready Room," said Archer.

Moments later the captain took his seat at the desk and activated the connection, to see Admiral Ryan's face displayed in the monitor.

"Admiral," said Archer. "Good to see you."

"Likewise, Captain," said Ryan. "How are the war games going?"

"Well enough, Admiral. We've learned a lot," said Archer, grudgingly.

Ryan laughed for he knew of Jon's general ambivalence towards the Vulcans, and said, "Well, two more days of fun and games, and then I have some real work for you."

"Oh?"

"At the conclusion of the games, dismiss the Delus ships for Earth, and head for Vulcan," said Ryan. "Come see me."

"Aye, sir," said Jon. "May I ask why?"

"We're going to try establishing formal diplomatic ties with the Andorians," said Ryan, "and hope to bring them into this thing with the Romulans on our side, or at least try to ensure their neutrality."

"I see," said Archer.

"You're going to ferry Earth's Ambassador to Vulcan, as well as a Vulcan ambassador, to Andoria."

"Soval?"

"No, he's still out of action," said Ryan. "The worst of the damage he sustained is healing, but he needs more time to heal completely, and then he needs some rehabilitation therapy."

Jon nodded, and said, "We were scheduled to be fitted with Vulcan shield emitters at the end of the wargames, Admiral. They'll be a necessity soon."

"I know," said Ryan. "But HQ decided that cobbling together some sort of alliance to resist the Romulans is more important than shielding one ship."

"I can understand that," said Archer.

"Anyway," said Ryan, "given the bad blood between the Andorians and the Vulcans, a Vulcan ship entering Andorian space will likely be destroyed on sight. So it falls on us to make the attempt. Report to Earth's Embassy when you reach Vulcan."

"Yes, Admiral," said Jon, and with that Ryan nodded to Archer and severed the connection.

* * *

"What news?" said Sek, taking a seat next to Harris on a park bench overlooking San Francisco Bay.

There were far too many Vulcans on Earth to protect them all from the Romulans, though strategically important Vulcans like Sek generally had V'Shar bodyguards, and what's more, Harris had a half dozen Section 31 operatives scattered about as well in order to assure Sek's safety, although the man's seemingly innocuous job would make him a low-priority target… unless the Romulans knew that Sek's cover was a ruse, which was always possible. Anything was possible where the Romulans were concerned.

"Nothing good," said Harris. "We've buried another dozen or so Romulans earlier today, or rather we boxed them in. In return they took out six city blocks of London's Square Mile. It's thrown the financial markets in a tizzy, and it will take months to figure out the extent of the damage."

"I saw the news feed this morning," said Sek. "Tactical nuke?"

"Matter/anti-matter bomb," said Harris. "The city's SWAT teams were ordered to leave it for the SAS to deal with when those soldiers arrived on the scene, but a hot dog SWAT captain wanted to show the world his men could handle the matter, and they fumbled the task in the process."

"I hope he will not command another mission," said Sek.

"He's already lost his job, may face criminal charges, and by now he's probably hiding out in fear for his life," said Harris. "The press leaked his name to a mob crying for his blood, and the Romulans may wish to pay him a visit as well. Forget about him. He's done, one way or another."

"So why did you ask to see me?" said Sek.

"General Romulan ship locations in your sector for the next week or so," said Harris, handing Sek a PADD unit. "I didn't want to trust this info to the comm lines running into your embassy, no matter how well monitored though those comm lines must be. Carry this data to one of your battlecruisers in Earth's orbit and transmit this data directly to Vulcan with a short burst transmission and a triple encryption scheme, and I think you'll be ok."

Sek took the PADD unit from Harris and began paging through the data. If it was accurate, it was incredibly detailed, and for the thousandth time, he wondered how Section 31 came by it's intelligence, for it was every bit as good as the V'Shar's most of the time, and often, it was even better. Much better.

"There's a detection protocol for those cloaked ships as well," said Harris, "and though it's not a hundred percent, it's a better strike rate than you're getting now, and the changes and modifications to your sensor hardware is quite minimal. We've already implemented it on our ships, though our sensor hardware is lacking compared to yours. I'd appreciate any help your people can provide on that front. You guys have the best sensors."

"Certainly," said Sek, still paging through the data. "I'll get on it as soon as I transmit this data, and right off hand, I believe we can supply you with three or four hundred sensor units a month."

"That will do quite nicely," said Harris. "As soon as possible please."

Sek pocketed the PADD unit, and then looked at Harris, and said, "How are you getting this information?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said Harris.

Harris knew he was right on that score, as the Vulcan Science Directorate had long determined that time travel was impossible, and in any case, the entire process was pretty hit and miss at this time, like a fishing net with gaping holes in it. It would catch a lot of fish, but it would miss just as many, or more… and all that stemming from hardware found aboard the burned out hull of a derelict alien ship, hauled to Earth and intended to be scrapped for metals, until a shrewd StarFleet Ensign had spotted the ship, scanned it deeply in passing, noted its thoroughly alien design, and passed word of it to some higher officers: that Ensign made Lieutenant two weeks later, as StarFleet needed thinking officers of that sort.

"Try me," said Sek.

"Sorry," said Harris.

"We've pressed both EarthGov and StarFleet at the highest levels for your sources of information, and they don't seem to know a damned thing," said Sek, watching Harris closely.

"I know. Keep pressing and we just might stop sharing info with your people," said Harris.

"Got it," said Sek. "Anything else?"

"No," said Harris, and with that Sek bid his farewell.


	21. Chapter 21

— **Chapter 21 —**

* * *

"Chief," said Dillard, one of Trip's lieutenants, as the man stood in the doorway of Trip's office.

"Yeah, Dillard," said Trip, looking up from the schematics of Deck C. "What's up?"

"We've got a fried relay panel on Deck E, Junction 119," said Dillard, "and I can't spare anyone to deal with it now. Feel like getting your hands dirty?"

"Yeah, I'll do it," said Trip: Junction 119 serviced SickBay, and the senior officers quarters, and though the officers could do without power if necessary, the SickBay could not.

"Thanks," said Dillard.

"You got it, boss," said Trip, looking round his office for his tool kit.

Shortly afterwards, Trip headed for Deck E while humming a charming little ditty as he walked the halls of the Enterprise at 0400 hours, genuinely enjoying the peace and quiet that went along with working the night shift. The war games had finally concluded and the joint fleet had disbanded, with the Vulcans resuming their pre-planned patrol routes and the Delus ships headed back to Earth, even as the Enterprise set course for Vulcan in accordance with Admiral Ryan's orders. It was a three day journey to Vulcan, which was just as well, as the engineers were busy round the clock, checking each of the numerous ship's systems in order to make certain that all were up to spec after that bout of extended maneuvers, for such things stressed the ship's systems to a greater degree than typical usage.

Accordingly, as the ship's Chief Engineer, Trip was buried in work, and given the schedule he was keeping now, working days or nights as the work load dictated, Trip had seen mercifully little of Jon, Malcolm or T'Pol, and that was good enough for now. A man couldn't ask for more.

But moments later Trip realized that apparently he had indeed asked for too much, for as he approached the captain's quarters on the way to Junction 119, Archer's cabin door clicked open, and T'Pol stepped out from the man's quarters.

The ensuing moment seemed timeless… both Trip and T'Pol froze in place, each startled by the other, and as T'Pol's gaze focused on Trip, her eyes grew wide in agitation, and her respiration rate increased noticeably... for his part, Trip's eyes were mirrors, revealing nothing of the man within, his face impassive despite the fact that his heart was beating like a drum. And then time resumed its accustomed flow, and the moment passed, and Trip moved past T'Pol on his way to the faulty junction node, while T'Pol headed in the opposite direction, directly for her quarters.

* * *

Once within the confines of her cabin, T'Pol sighed and placed her back against the closed door for a bit, then finally moved towards the bathroom. She showered, changed into her pajamas and then lit the meditation candle on her coffee table. She knelt before the candle then, and throttled her thought stream as she reached for inner silence and a state of purposeful awareness, but it was long in coming. It was just so hard to focus after her encounter with Commander Tucker.

Earlier this evening she'd finally given in to her needs, for denying them was not an option, and she'd chosen Archer, for she had to mend that bridge if she was to make do with him and Lt. Reed until these damnable impulses ran their course through her psyche. The captain's response had been about what she'd expected now that T'Pol looked at her conduct through new eyes, and realized how callous and deceitful she'd been with them all. And Archer had not let her forget it.

Oh, the man had been civil, if just barely so, when he'd told T'Pol of his displeasure at the rift she'd caused between them all, though he'd been somewhat mollified when T'Pol had genuinely apologized, and stated that she'd never intended to bring any of that about. Still, his lingering resentment showed in the man's treatment, which was much less appreciative, and much less intimate… but than, what had she expected? And so, after Archer had serviced her twice, T'Pol had thanked the man and then made her escape… from the pan into the fire apparently, for then she'd run into Commander Tucker.

She'd prayed for a miraculous transporter malfunction to occur just then, and beam her into space, for T'Pol was mortified to bump into Commander Tucker at that time and place, despite the illogical nature of such thoughts: after all, she'd given the man a chance to be the one to help her, and he knew she had no choice in the matter!

Still…

She wrestled then with her feelings, for the next hour or so, and then T'Pol finally found the inner silence she'd been searching for, a void absent of thought, a void in which turbulent emotions were but a faded memory, and it was here that T'Pol found some measure of peace.

* * *

Trip had nestled the new panel in place, and was just then verifying that all things were functioning properly, when his comm unit beeped. He answered.

"Tucker."

"Commander Tucker," said Crewman Quinn, the night shift's Comm officer. "I have Admiral Ryan on the comm line. He was leaving a message for the captain, and one for you as well, but I asked him to hold a moment since I've heard you're up and about. If you're available I'll patch him through, if not I'll take the message."

"I'm just a few feet from my cabin," said Trip. "Put him through there, please."

"Yes, Commander."

Moments later, Trip logged on to his computer, and the admiral's face popped up onscreen.

"You're up early today, Admiral," said Trip, who was familiar with Ryan: the admiral had started out as an engineer as well, and the two men got along well enough.

"Vulcan time, Commander," said Ryan. "It's 0900 hours here. In any case, the Enterprise reaches Vulcan in what… four hours?"

"That sounds about right, Admiral."

"Good," said Ryan. "Listen, Forrest wants to see Jon as soon as the Enterprise reaches Vulcan, and I want to see you as soon as my schedule allows. I'll call for you when I'm free."

"Yes, sir," said Trip. "May I ask what that's all about?"

"HQ wants to run some names and service records past you," said Ryan. "We can't get the Columbia out of space dock no matter what we do, it seems. Commander Evans had a heart attack two days ago. He's in no shape to keep at it, and we want your input into his replacement."

Trip thought quickly about what the Romulans were doing on Earth, thought about his duty, and spoke up.

"I'll do it, Admiral," said Trip. "I'll get her out of dock."

"You?" said Ryan. "We've offered you the Executive Officer slot on the Columbia when T'Pol fell in place as a regular on the Enterprise, and you've turned down transfer and promotion several times since then. Why now?"

"Things have changed, Admiral," said Trip. "The Romulans are drawing blood on Earth even now, and once open combat breaks out in space we'll need the Columbia, sir. If I get her out of spacedock in time, it might make a difference that counts. As for the technical angle, I'm currently your best engineer where an NX class ship is concerned. Three years of taking the NX from a concept, through development and to an actual ship, and then two additional years of practical applications in space."

"You don't need to convince me, Commander," said Ryan. "You are the best."

"For what it's worth," said Trip, "it's my professional opinion that Dillard is ready for promotion to Chief Engineer of the Enterprise, and he's been with me the past two years, so I know the man's capabilities quite well."

"You'd be serving under Erika Hernandez," said Ryan.

"I've known her for more than a decade, sir. She's a fine captain," said Trip, "and I'd be proud to serve under her command."

"Fair enough," said Ryan. "I want to look at Dillard's record, speak to some people who know him, run your offer past HQ. I'll call you later about this matter."

"Yes, sir," said Trip, and the video screen went black.

* * *

Some four hours later, the Enterprise had reached Vulcan, where Archer and T'Pol boarded a shuttle for the planet below. Soon afterwards, they exited the shuttle at a private spaceport run by Vulcans on behalf of diplomatic visitors, StarFleet personnel and such, they were met right on the tarmac by a Vulcan mag-lev vehicle with a StarFleet insignia painted on it's sides.

"Ensign Wu, sirs," said a young Human officer, after approaching Archer. "Admiral Forrest sends his compliments. This way please."

Moments later Archer sighed as he entered the blessedly cool interior of the vehicle and headed for Earth's Embassy to Vulcan, where StarFleet had five floors of that building for it's own use. Although Vulcan's heat was not as bad as commonly imagined, outside of the deepest deserts, the midday heat was still daunting, generally hovering between 105 - 110F, so it was no joke: but at least it was a dry heat.

Some twenty minutes later the vehicle dropped T'Pol off at her mother's house as a courtesy, and twenty minutes after that, Jon was ushered into Admiral Forrest's office.

"Jon," said Forrest with a smile, as the two men had known each other for many years, and Forrest was something of Jon's mentor. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Admiral," said Jon.

"We've got a meeting with Earth's Ambassador to Vulcan, as well as a Vulcan ambassador of some sort, and they'll take the lead in establishing formal relations with Andoria, once we get them there. We've already contacted the Andorians, and they're willing to talk to us, " said Forrest. "After we meet with those two diplomats, we'll come back here and break open a bottle of Scotch, and catch up."

"Looking forward to it, Admiral," said Archer.

* * *

Some three hours after T'Pol and the captain had left the Enterprise, admiral Ryan reached out for Trip.

"All right, Commander," said Ryan. "Tell Dillard he's just got his promotion and made Chief Engineer, and you, you pack your bags. You're scheduled to leave for Earth, two hours from now. StarFleet is shipping you out on the Vulcan passenger liner Tu'lus. First class."

"Much obliged, sir," said Trip with a smile: he'd never flown on a Vulcan liner, but their first class service was legendary.

"Good luck with the Columbia, Commander Tucker," said Ryan. "Now get packed and board the Tu'lus before she departs."

"Yes, sir."

Ryan severed their connection at that, and Trip took a look about his cabin, but truth to tell, there wasn't much to pack. All the technical data manuals, personal data and multimedia files he valued were on a removable harddrive, and uniforms would be available on the Columbia, so all Trip needed to pack were a few personal items, and some clothes, and half that work was already done, in anticipation of Ryan's call.

Trip then took a few minutes to swing by Engineering and give Dillard the good news, as well as say farewell to his Engineering crew, after which Trip headed for the Bridge where he gave Hoshi a hug and two pecks on the lips.

Travis was next, and apparently Trip bungled things with him, as Travis said, "Ok, I got a handshake and a half-assed pat on the back, but where's my peck on the lips, you bastard."

"Shut the fuck up, Travis!" said Trip.

Travis laughed at that, and Trip bumped fists with the Ensign, even though Trip hated that particular move, but what the hell…

"There's your damned peck, Travis."

Another hug for Hoshi, and another kiss, but this one with some tongue, and Travis hooted at that kiss, while Hoshi smiled: she'd liked it well enough. Farewells ably performed, Trip headed for his cabin in order to change in some civilian clothing, after which he picked up his bags and turned his back on his quarters for the last time, headed for the ShuttleBay.

On the way there, Trip ran into Malcolm, for the lieutenant was already looking for him.

"What's going on, Trip?" said Malcolm, walking alongside the commander. "Hoshi just told me you're leaving the Enterprise."

"Yeah," said Trip. "I swung by the Bridge to say goodbye, but you weren't there and I thought you might have gone down to Vulcan with the captain. I was going to send you a message from the shuttle."

"Well, what's up?" said Malcolm. "Why are you leaving? Is it because… you know."

"No, Malcolm," said Trip. "Orders. With the Romulans on the warpath, I have to get the Columbia out of spacedock."

"And then you're coming back?" said Malcolm.

"I doubt it," said Trip. "They're giving me the XO slot on the Columbia, so unless I screw up badly there, that's my ship."

"You'll be missed," said Malcolm, and despite Malcolm's habitual understatement, his true feelings about Trip's departure showed on the Brit's face.

"Likewise, Malcolm," said Trip, then smiled. "Listen, be smart and don't get married, because if you do, I'm gonna bang your wife."

Malcolm laughed at that, as did Trip, and it felt good for there was no malice in Trip: Malcolm had been forgiven.

They'd reached the Shuttle Bay, and Malcolm stopped there, for Ship's Operations liked to keep the deck clear of non-essential personnel.

"We'll talk soon," said Trip.

"I'd like that, Trip," said Malcolm, and left it at that, for Trip clearly didn't want to hear any more apologies.

With that, Trip gave Malcolm a comedic salute, and then entered the Shuttle Bay, soon to leave the Enterprise in his wake.

* * *

It was later that evening that T'Pol returned to the Enterprise by way of the transporter, for she'd left the shuttle behind for the captain's use. Archer was still on Vulcan with Admiral Forrest, so T'Pol was the highest ranking officer aboard the ship at the moment, but it was the night watch now, and T'Pol was content to leave the ship to Acting Captain Orram's care.

She headed for her quarters and in the process T'Pol passed by Commander Tucker's cabin. The door was wide open and that drew her attention, so T'Pol stepped inside to see a member of Ship's Operations there, performing her duties.

"Ah, SubCommander," said Crewman Tubbs. "Just finishing up here."

"What is going on?" said T'Pol.

"Just steam cleaned the mattress, and vacuumed the place, sir," said Tubbs. "We'll pack everything away tomorrow."

"Why?" said T'Pol. "Where is Commander Tucker?"

"I don't know, SubCommander."

"Please leave," said T'Pol.

"Yes, SubCommander," said Tubbs, perhaps understanding some of it, for rumor said that Commander Tucker and T'Pol were romantically involved, but if that had ever been the case, well that was clearly over now.

Once Tubbs had left, and she had the room to herself, T'Pol reached out to the Bridge.

"Yes, SubCommander," said Orram.

"What is the status of Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, for the Acting Captain would know such things: there was a digital logbook for each shift, in which everything worthy of note was recorded, and the disappearance of the Chief Engineer was a fact worth noting.

"Commander Tucker is no longer a member of this crew, SubCommander," said Orram. "He is on his way to Earth, where he will see to the completion of the Columbia."

"I see. Thank you," said T'Pol, and severed the connection.

She sighed, and stood there for a few minutes, looking round the commander's quarters, and other than the stripped mattress and a few missing personal items, the place looked the same… yet felt so dreadfully empty.


	22. Chapter 22

— **Chapter 22 —**

* * *

For Trip, boarding the Vulcan liner Tu'lus held a whiff of deja-vu, for it felt so similar to boarding the T'Lek Sor and being suddenly surrounded by Vulcans. This ship carried some thirty-five hundred passengers, of which some nine hundred were Humans returning to Earth, while the rest of the passengers were Vulcans headed to Earth for work, business, or pleasure. That last reason for visiting Earth, pleasure, might seem odd given the Romulan attacks occurring regularly on Earth, but such things were happening on Vulcan as well, and thus they were a fact of life.

As a first class passenger, Trip's way was made easier as he'd pre-boarded early, after which he'd been guided to his cabin by a helpful member of the Vulcan crew, and once behind the closed door of his cabin, Trip sighed with relief.

It was finally over. He was finally done with that whole mess with T'Pol, the tension between him and Jon… now it was time to move on to a new challenge and a fresh start. This would be a five day flight to Earth, and although Trip was curious to see the ship and it's workings, he'd take this first night to decompress.

The suite was a good start towards that end, and compared to his former quarters aboard the Enterprise, this suite was palatial. A king sized bed with a pleasantly firm mattress, a beautiful bathroom with both shower and a deep soaking tub, and a small, but quite serviceable, living room with a sweet multi-media center, and the entire suite decorated in the restrained but beautiful design which characterized Vulcan sensibilities.

Satisfied with his quarters, Trip drew a bottle of tequila from his duffel bag, even as the tub was filling up with hot water. The bottle had been a going away present from Dillard, and in view of that Trip knew that the booze would be a damned fine tequila… and indeed it was. Ten minutes later, Trip climbed into the tub of hot water, and allowed the heat, and the tequila to leech the last traces of tension from his body.

"This is the life," said Trip a few shots later, then laughed aloud, buzzed and happy: it was good to let go of the past.

* * *

The morning after his meeting with Admiral Forrest and his introduction to the two diplomats he'd be ferrying to Andoria, Archer woke in a lousy mood, for he'd found out about Trip's transfer off the Enterprise upon returning to the ship, and giving the logbook a quick once over. Hoping that the log entry had been a mistake, Archer had double-checked that entry with Acting Captain Orram, but no dice. Trip was gone, and a brief email from the man wishing Archer well was clearly nothing more than a gesture motivated by courtesy, rather than genuine desire.

Dressing quickly, Archer headed for the Captain's Mess and breakfast with T'Pol, as the pattern of working meals they'd fallen into allowed them to hit the ground running each day and function more efficiently, so Jon was resolved to keep them going, despite Trip's absence.

"Good morning, T'Pol," said Archer as he stepped into the Captain's Mess.

"Good morning, Captain," said T'Pol, and eyed Archer as the man took his seat.

The captain's steward returned just then with some blueberry tea for T'Pol, and said, "Coffee, Captain?"

"Please," said Archer, and waited for the coffee in silence.

Once the captain had taken his first sip of coffee and sighed aloud, T'Pol said, "I understand we have a new Chief Engineer."

"Yes," said Archer, and left it at that.

"May I ask why?" said T'Pol, for though she knew Commander Tucker was gone, she could think of no good reason to justify the man's absence. "I find StarFleet's actions of pilfering your crew to be most illogical. Surely the fleet has more than one engineer."

Archer's first instinct was to reply sarcastically, or say nothing at all, but he quelled that instinct. T'Pol was still his Executive Officer, she was a good officer, and as his XO she deserved a civil response, despite the fact that Archer privately held her responsible for Trip's departure.

"StarFleet has been plagued with problems and delays in getting ships out of space dock in time," said Archer. "It's a matter of shortages in some of the critical components, due to the Romulan attacks, as well as shortages in qualified personnel. But more than that, Trip is the lead engineer on the NX project. If anyone can get the Columbia out of dock in record time, it's him."

T'Pol nodded in understanding, just as the captain's steward came to take their breakfast order. Minutes later, captain and subcommander returned to their discussion.

"Anyway, EarthGov is bringing other facilities online," said Archer, "to fix the shortage problems, and StarFleet has ramped up recruitment. After the brutal Romulan attack on StarFleet's HQ campus we have more volunteers than we need, but it still takes time to put those people through the training and work them through the system."

"I see," said T'Pol. "In any case, I am surprised that we had no advance notice of this transfer."

"Admiral Ryan contacted him yesterday, asked Trip's opinion on some possible candidates to take over the Columbia's Engineering department," said Archer, "and Trip volunteered for the task of seeing the Columbia combat ready, and launched out of space dock."

"After which he will return to the Enterprise?" said T'Pol, noting that the captain had diplomatically left out any personal comments speculating on the possible reasons which might have motivated Commander Tucker to volunteer, so eagerly, to leave the Enterprise.

"No," said Archer, finding the thought painful. "Trip's taking a position as the Columbia's Executive Officer, the XO, what you Vulcans call a First Officer."

"I see," said T'Pol, seemingly unfazed by the captain's words, though she felt a dull pain in her heart, as well as the onset of what felt like a nasty headache, all at the thought of Commander Tucker's departure. "Well, Commander Tucker has always spoken well of Dillard, and the man's record shows that he is a competent engineer."

"Dillard's a good man," said Archer. "Not as good as Trip, but he's been trained by Trip, and hopefully he'll grow quickly into the role of Chief Engineer."

T'Pol nodded in agreement with the Captain's sentiments, just as the steward entered the room once more and served T'Pol, and then Archer, their breakfasts: a sweet avocado smoothie and a fruit platter for the Vulcan, a whey protein and espresso coffee shake, two breakfast burritos and some hashbrowns for Archer.

"Anything else, sirs?" said the steward.

T'Pol shook her head and murmured a thanks, and Archer said, "We're good. Thank you."

"In addition to Trip's transfer," said Archer, "we've got a list of ten promotions, mostly among the crew, save for Dillard and Reed, both of whom are promoted from Lieutenant, to Lt-Commander."

"Understood," said T'Pol. "I will schedule a brief ceremony after lunch, during which you can deliver the promotions and insignias personally. It will be good for morale."

"Right," said Archer, and the two then continued eating in silence.

Eventually as their meal drew to a close, Archer said, "We've got two diplomats boarding the ship in a few hours. See that the Vulcan is made comfortable, please."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol. "And then?"

"Then we set course of Andoria," said Archer.

* * *

"Come, S'Rel," said Usurr, the Romulan in charge of the three Imperial Marines remaining under his command, as well as S'Rel, a Tal Shiar operative assigned to his unit. "We must keep moving."

S'Rel nodded, painfully attempting to move faster. All five were dressed in Vulcan robes, beneath which they carried the concealed weapons with which they'd just completed the day's assignment.

Five Imperial Marines, with the addition of S'Rel had closed in on their assigned target, the CEO of the Engrad corporation. Trouble was, a man of such means could afford protection, and the man's bodyguards had put up a spirited defense of their charge: oh, they were no match for Imperial Marines, but they killed Zilik and gut-shot S'Rel, before they and their charge were cut down by the Romulans.

Zilik had fallen dead where he'd stood, half his face blown away by a Human bodyguard, and so Zilik was abandoned on the scene. S'Rel had been badly hurt, gut shot, and though she was applying pressure on a wound which would have incapacitated a Human, she was bleeding internally and moving badly, though that fact was concealed from the surrounding Humans by the other Romulans who'd formed a moving shield between S'Rel and the Humans round them.

Halfway through the building S'Rel stumbled, and would have fallen, had her fellows not prevented the fall. Moments later she was being hustled into a mag-lev sedan with tinted windows, and then ten minutes later she was hustled into a delivery van when the Romulans changed vehicles in an underground parking garage, and this despite the fact that there was no apparent pursuit. It was just good tradecraft. None of that made any difference to S'Rel, for despite the aid of the squad's medic inside the van, the trauma was too extensive and widespread. She died a painful death.

"Usurr?" said the squads demolition specialist, drawing Usurr's attention from S'Rel's corpse.

Usurr looked at the demolition man, noted that another of his men had hotwired a new car, and said, "Burn everything. Ten minute delay."

Moments later the Romulans were gone, save S'Rel. She burned along with the van, for the Romulans generally left no evidence behind for this Human filth to sort through, if such things could be avoided.

* * *

T'Pol moved through the halls of D Deck, heading for the junior officer's quarters. The need was upon her this evening, after a long day of dealing with ship's business, and she could wait no longer.

She reached the newly frocked Lt-Commander Reed's quarters, and shortly afterwards, the man opened his cabin door in order to allow her to step inside.

"Are you certain you wouldn't rather go to Captain Archer," said Reed, clearly uncomfortable, "in order to meet your needs?"

"I can not, Lt-Commander Reed," said T'Pol, a bit pained at the man's obvious discomfort. "Earth's Ambassador is holding conference with the captain."

"All right," said Malcolm, and then began undressing, too annoyed to even drag this matter out: who'd have thought he could ever find sexually servicing a beautiful Vulcan an unwelcome chore?

T'Pol took her lead from Reed, and began stripping her uniform from her body, and moments later they began. Although Reed's arousal was apparent in his physiological response, his unwillingness to participate in this matter was clear, and if Archer had been cold and detached during their last encounter, Reed was brisk and intense, driving himself within T'Pol with an aggressive zeal clearly meant to give T'Pol what she needed, and then get rid of her. Thankfully, that was just what T'Pol needed from Reed, and after thirty minutes of that forceful intercourse, T'Pol's needs were met, and Reed brought himself off within her. Shortly afterwards, T'Pol left the man's quarters physically satisfied, and emotionally unfulfilled.

If only Trip were here, thought T'Pol, her cravings for the man's touch much more than sexual: she realized that now. Far too late.

* * *

By the third day aboard the Vulcan liner, Trip was as happy as a pig rooting through a dumpster. Sleeping in each morning was quite nice, after which he worked out, and then took a sauna and a massage.

He followed all that up with a tasty lunch, after which Trip lost himself in some investigative explorations of the massive Vulcan ship, always ending at a large plate glass wall which allowed passengers to view the workings of the ship's Engineering department, and if these huge engines were not as cutting edge as the battlecruiser engines he'd seen aboard the T'Lek Sor, they were just as beautiful, and the sight of the Engineering department was captivating to an engineer's eyes.

The evenings were filled with socializing with the various Humans and Vulcans to be found aboard the giant ship. All would have been perfect, had Trip's luck held all the way to Earth, but then he'd been on a losing streak lately, and it all came to a head in the deep of the night, with a powerful jolt and a noise which woke the entire ship.

* * *

"Đó là gì?" said Mai, startled awake, and looking to Trip for answers: this was their second night together, and Mai was aware that Trip was an engineer.

"I don't speak a lick of Vietnamese, darling," said Trip, already out of bed and slipping into a pair of jeans he'd worn about the cabin, and then looking for his shoes by the dim light of the battery powered emergency lighting.

"What? What is that, Trip?" said Mai, her delicate face clearly displaying her fear.

Another dull boom, and another quiver that ran through the ship, this one of lessor intensity, though no less troubling where Trip was concerned.

"I don't know, Mai," said Trip. "Your sister will be worried about you, so I'll drop you off at your cabin, then see if I can find out what's going on. Get dressed."

Mai moved quickly to do as instructed, and moments later they were moving down the hall, Trip holding the young woman's hand, lest they become separated, for people were already poking their heads out the cabin, and moving about the hallways, though the best thing they could have done was to shelter in place: Trip would have done just that, save for the fact that he was an engineer, and he might be able to aid this ship in its distress.

The Vulcan crew was beginning to make an appearance here and there, but they'd been surprised right along with the passengers, and of course there were far fewer crewmen than passengers.

Ten minutes later, for the elevators were out of commission and Trip and Mai had climbed three flights of stair and gone down a number of hallways, they finally reached Mai's suite, and she knocked on the door.

"Mai. Thank God!" said her sister, and pulled Mai's arm in order to bring the young woman into the room, but Mai clung to the door.

"Trip!" said Mai. "Stay with us!"

"I need to help this crew if they'll allow it, Mai," said Trip, and Mai nodded wordlessly: with that Trip turned his back on Mai, and made way for C Deck, which housed the engineering department.


	23. Chapter 23

— **Chapter 23 —**

* * *

"…and so we ask that you stay calm, and follow the directives of the crew," said the anonymous voice being broadcast over the PA system in English, after having first made that same announcement in Vulcan, as Trip moved through the Tu'lus.

He'd been heading for Engineering at a slow pace, as the elevators were out of order and the hallways crowded with frightened people, though the Vulcans hid it better than the Humans. Still, Trip pressed forward and moved as quickly as possible for the stairwell until a group of five Vulcans caught his eye, as among them Trip recognized the face of the female in that group from the liner's 'Welcome Aboard' video: Lea'sil, this ship's captain, and Trip rushed to intercept her.

"Captain!" said Trip pushing his way through the passengers in order to reach the captain, though two of the Vulcan males accompanying the captain barred Trip's way, perhaps fearing that Trip was irrational, and a thus threat.

"Captain," said Trip once more, calmer now that he'd drawn her attention. "I can be of assistance to your crew."

"Thank you," said Lea'sil, viewing the Human as a well intentioned pain in the ass at that particular moment, "but our crew is trained to handle such—"

"Captain," said Trip, "I'm Commander Tucker of StarFleet, a Chief Engineer who just came off a two month assignment on T'Lek Sor, a Vulcan military shipyard. I don't know what we're facing here, but I can guess, and I can be an asset to you right now. Make use of me."

Lea'sil looked Trip over for a brief moment, for she'd heard of the T'Lek Sor and the man's claims were quite specific, then said, "In that case, come with us, Commander Tucker."

Moments later they entered a stairwell meant solely for the crew's use and as such secured with palm print access, and once the door was shut behind them, it was quiet enough in the stairwell for them all to speak calmly as they walked down the stairs towards C Deck, and Engineering.

"I appreciate your offer, Commander Tucker," said Lea'sil, "and I fear we are in a tight spot, as you Humans might say."

"An overview of the situation would be helpful, Captain," said Trip.

"Twenty-seven minutes ago," said Lea'sil, "my ship struck some sort of explosive device, though our sensors gave us no warning until the instant of the explosion."

"I'll wager it was a cloaked Romulan mine, Captain," said Trip. "I was aboard the Enteprise, when that ship struck such a device. They're nasty things."

Lea'sil had stopped and looked directly at Trip when the man had described the likely culprit here, and then nodded her agreement with the man's sentiments, and then began moving down the stair well once more.

"Be that as it may," said Lea'sil, "we are in some measure of trouble. We've lost communications through the ship, and worse, I have no engines, and thus I have no main power, and I have no idea where we stand. Standby battery power allowed us to send out a number of distress calls, but life support is just barely limping along."

"That's a serious threat," said Trip. "With this many people onboard, the oxygen supply on this ship won't last lon—"

"We have passive oxygen scrubbers built into the ship's structure," said Lea'sil, "and they've been adequately engineered to handle our needs even now. But if we lose life support, we lose heat and we lose the ability to filter water. As it stands we have two days worth of clean water at most, because we usually distill gray water in order to return it to the water supply. In true need we can drink the gray water as is, but some will get sick doing so, no doubt, but sick is better than dead."

Trip understood, he was familiar with the drill. Gray water, the relatively clean water used by showers, sinks, and the kitchens was distilled and the pure water returned to the drinking water storage tanks, but without the engines to drive the distillation units, that was now impossible.

"I've already instituted orders to ration clean water and retain the lion's share of it for Humans," said Lea'sil, for the desert adapted Vulcans could handle water privation much better than Humans. "Aid from Earth or Vulcan is four days away or so, hopefully less than that, what with the the faster warp engines of our military ships, so we should be all right on that score. They'll find us stinking and unwashed but they'll find us alive."

"Unless the Romulans return to finish us off, Captain," said Trip.

Lea'sil nodded: she was civilian captain, and such thoughts were mercifully not part of her regular concerns, but she said, "That is out of our hands, Commander Tucker, so we will deal with those things which are under our control. What do you suggest we do?"

"I imagine Engineering has it's hands full right about now," said Trip, "and our best bet is to restore power and warp drive if possible: I hope to be of some use to your Chief Engineer in service to that end."

"We are grateful for your assistance, Commander Tucker," said Lea'sil, finally setting foot on C Deck, "but I have not heard from Engineering since the impact, and reports say the impact took portions of C and D Decks out."

That much turned out to be true, soon enough, for C Deck was a fucking disaster, although a good hundred of the ship's crewmen were doing their best to evacuate the wounded to the higher decks, leaving the dead to lie in place for the time being. The Engineering Department was not even visible when Lea'sil, Trip and the other Vulcan crewmen drew close to its location, for as soon as the Tu'lus had taken damage, a third of C Deck and two sections of D Deck had been exposed to the void that was space, and that very exposure triggered the automatic release of pressure plates which sealed off the still viable portions of the ship, from those portions which were now destroyed.

An elder Vulcan saw Lea'sil and made way for the captain, and from the manner in which other Vulcans moved out of his way, it was clear that he was of some importance in the chain of command aboard the Tu'lus.

"Sifet," said Lea'sil while looking at Trip. "Second in the chain of command."

"Captain," said Sifet.

"How do we stand, Sifet?" said Lea'sil, addressing Sifet in English for the sake of Commander Tucker.

"In bad shape," said Sifet, taking his cue from the Captain and speaking English as well. "We have lost Engineering almost completely, Captain. Most of that section is still there, true, and part of the ship, but there's a fifty foot hole which has to be sealed off before we can access that section, and doubtless many repairs to be made if we mean to restore power. Those repairs would take weeks to make in space dock. Out here, they're impossible."

"The Engineering crew?" said the captain.

"Of one hundred and seven engineers, we have eighteen engineers left, Captain," said Sifet, "and they're trying to do what they can for the ship. The rest of the Engineering crew are either dead at their posts, or they were drawn out into space when the hull was breached."

Lea'sil went pale at that, as it was not the nature of civilian service to suffer such losses.

"Do we have a casualty count for our passengers?" said Lea'sil.

"The losses among the passengers have not yet been determined," said Sifet, "and will not be, until we are rescued."

"Who is in charge of the engineers?" said the captain, meaning to see that Commander Tucker was designated a slot among them.

"Take your pick, Captain," said Sifet. "To our misfortune it seems that most of the survivors are all relatively junior members of Engineering."

"Have them report to Commander Tucker, unless a senior engineer comes forth," said Lea'sil, quickly reasoning that the man's ability to handle and lead a crew of engineers was worth more here than his knowledge of the ship, though if he'd served aboard the T'Lek Sor he should be fine even on that score.

"Yes, Captain," said Sifet, taking stock of the Human, and privately questioning the captain's decision. "This way, Commander Tucker."

* * *

"Captain," said the centurion monitoring the Tactical station of the Rejalle, the Romulan Bird of Prey whose name translated to Graceful Flyer.

D'Haes, captain of this Bird of Prey, looked at the centurion, and lifted his chin a fraction.

"A Vulcan distress call," said the centurion. "They've struck one of our mines, and they're in desperate need of assistance. At best speed it would take us fifty-six hours to reach that location."

"Set course for those coordinates," said D'Haes, knowing full well that Vulcans, and/or Humans, would respond to that distress call and that should provide the Rejalle with a good chance to cause havoc amongst the enemy.

"Aye, Captain," said the centurion, and moments later, the Rejalle set course for the wreck of the Tu'lus at best speed.

* * *

"I want those blast doors welded shut," said Trip, looking at Tellok, a young Vulcan, and an engineer with three years of on the job experience, "before we try rebooting the computer systems."

Tellok understood the man's purpose in giving those instructions, but he was obviously not aware of the safety systems on Vulcan ships: the blast doors, separating the vacuum of space from the still viable sections of C Deck were quite secure. Still, he approached the topic respectfully.

"That is an unnecessary precaution, Commander Tucker," said Tellok. "The blast doors are quite secure. Rebooting the computer systems will not cause any mishaps."

"Sure," said Trip, "in principle. But can you guarantee that neither the mechanical components, nor the computer's functionality were damaged in the blast? If that's the case, and just one of those doors pops open, we'll all die before we can evacuate this deck. It will take the crew two hours to weld the blast doors shut. I think it's a thing worth doing, so do it."

"Yes, Commander," said Tellok, seeing the logic of the man's words.

Sifet, the ship's second in command, had watched that last interaction between Tellok and Tucker, just as he'd watched the Human discreetly since he'd taken over what was left of the Engineering crew, some ten hours ago, and though he'd watched the man closely, ready to countermand any foolish orders, the man had made nothing but good decisions so far. Well enough.

"How are things, Commander Tucker?" said Sifet.

"Improving slowly, Sifet," said Trip. "We've rigged together something of a data network in what's left of the ship, and in two hours, when we reboot the computers off emergency power, we'll be able to communicate with every part of the ship. We've sealed a half dozen small ruptures in the water tanks, though not before losing a fourth of our water supply. We should still be all right until rescue, so far as water is concerned, as long as we ration it appropriately, and we'll rig up some distillation units in orde—"

"How?" said Sifet. "Without main engines we have no power to run the distillers."

"Some of the equipment in what's left of Engineering runs off natural gas," said Trip, "and the ship carries enough gas to distill about forty thousand gallons of clean water. Every drop will count if rescue takes longer than anticipated."

"True enough, Commander," said Sifet. "You were saying?"

"Ah," said Trip, taking a moment to remember where he left off. "Anyway, we should have ship wide communication soon enough, as well some mobile generators which run off compressed natural gas as well, and we'll use those to recharge the transmitter batteries if necessary, in order to broadcast our appeals for help longer than expected."

"All that is good news, Commander Tucker," said Sifet.

Trip nodded, but said nothing, his attention distracted by two of the Vulcan engineers who were discussing the merits of welding the blast doors even as they prepped the equipment, and Trip frowned with annoyance: Fucking civilians!

"Seltuk aness leipar anat, et'sirek!" said Trip in his command voice, and it carried quite well through this part of Deck C: Shut your mouths and start welding, you motherless curs!"

Sifet actually chuckled at that, amused by the man's respectable grasp of the Vulcan language.

"Can we do anything about the temperature?" said Sifet a few moments later, for without the main engines to generate heat for the comfort of crew and passengers, the Tu'lus had become progressively colder.

If rescue took too long, the very old and the very young among the passengers would suffer, but they'd likely all suffer before all this was over and done with. The Humans would suffer more if water supplies were tight, but ironically, Humans handled cold much better than Vulcans, so in one way or another they were all on a heading for a grim death if rescue took longer than a week.

"Forward me the data on your passive oxygen scrubbers, Sifet, as I'd like to glance at the numbers and make some calculations," said Trip. "If they're engineered properly, we'll have some leeway, and we can concentrate passengers in order to make use of body heat, and we might even be able to start a few natural gas torches as needed, but no more than that: we overload the scrubbers, and we die. Start by getting people together in small groups for now, sharing body heat."

Sifek nodded his agreement with Commander Tucker's suggestions, and said, "Very well. I will see that data makes its way to you. Keep up the good work, Commander Tucker."

Trip nodded absentmindedly in response, his mind already on to the next problem.

* * *

Thankfully, help arrived for the Tu'lus a day or so before things would have begun getting desperate. Three Vulcan cruisers arrived on scene at the fiftieth hour, and two StarFleet vessels arrived two hours later, and by that time the Vulcans were already transferring people to their massive cruisers, while the much smaller StarFleet vessels were not much help here, though they offered to tow the Tu'lus back to Earth or Vulcan at low warp speed once the ship was cleared of people.

It was the midst of that evacuation procedure that the Romulan ship, the Rejalle, entered the system, cloaked against detection.

"Helm, take us in slow," said D'Haes, the captain of the Rejalle. "Ten thousand meters to the rear of Vulcan vessels."

"Yes, Captain," said the Helm officer.

"Latton," said D'Haes, "we will pick our targets from left to right, moving on only after our previous target is destroyed. If the Vulcans disperse and act effectively we will avoid contact until we can raise the cloaking field once more."

"Yes, Captain," said Latton, the centurion manning the Tactical console.

An undercurrent of excitement ran through each and every one of the Romulans on the bridge of the Rejalle. Today they would strike a blow for the empire against Vulcans and Humans both, for once the cloaked Rejalle took station behind the Vulcan cruisers at the distance of ten thousand meters, the Rejalle would unload a volley of plasma torpedoes at its designated target, even as the disruptor cannon batteries unloaded a fearsome firestorm at that same designated ship, and then the next, and the next, all while the Vulcan ships struggled to disconnect from the Tu'lus. With a proper setup, even against these odds, the Rejalle could take out at least two of the Vulcan ships, perhaps all three. The Humans were barely an afterthought.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned for the Romulans, as one of the Human ships suddenly powered up its shields and weapons, followed quickly by the other, and the two ships moved to an intercept course between the Romulan ship and Vulcan ships, even as the Vulcan ships powered weapons and ended the transfer of passengers to their ships, in preparation for raising shields.

"Something's wrong, Captain," said the Latton, speaking for tactical, almost the instant the first Human ship had powered shields and weapons.

"Obviously," said D'Haes. "What is the status of our cloaking device?"

"Functioning at a nominal value, Captain," said Latton.

"Distance?" said D'Hael.

"Twenty-eight thousand feet," said Latton. "They know we're here, Captain."

"Interesting," said D'Haes, quite displeased by this development. "Helm, keep us in motion."

"Yes, Captain."

D'Haes took stock of the situation now.

The Humans had devised a way to detect cloaked Romulan ships, and that was an unwelcome development. Their means of detection was not yet perfected, else his ship would be under attack even now, but this means of detection was good enough to give some warning. As things stood now, with all ships shielded and powered, attacking any of them would be foolish, as the moment the Rejalle opened fire, the demands of her weapons systems would negate the ship's cloaking field for a time, ensuring that she'd be blasted to pieces by the combined fire of the Human and Vulcan ships.

The Rejalle remained in the area for the better part of an hour, constantly probing the capabilities of the enemy's detection device, and when they'd obtained enough data, the Rejalle backed slowly away from the allies at low impulse speed, until safely away, and then left the area at low-warp speed, as stealthily as a leopard.

As for the allied ships of Humans and Vulcans, they kept vigil the entire time they remained on the scene, until all the passengers and crew were offloaded onto the Vulcan cruisers, and then all three massive Vulcan cruisers headed for Earth with the passengers and crew of the Tu'lus, as well as the two StarFleet ships, leaving behind the derelict ship to be collected and towed to Vulcan by two other Vulcan cruisers which would reach the Tu'lus in a few days.

All in all, the incident with the Romulans was a mixed bag: the sensors which had been built according to the specs which Harris had delivered to both StarFleet and the Vulcan Navy had worked well enough, in a strategic sense, to alert the allies that Romulans were closing in, but not well enough to pinpoint a Romulan ship in a tactical sense, in an effective manner which would allow them to bracket the enemy with phaser cannon batteries or torpedos. Still, better than nothing. Much better than nothing.


	24. Chapter 24

— **Chapter 24 —**

* * *

The Enterprise was en route for Andoria when a video from Vulcan made the rounds through the entire crew, and oddly enough T'Pol was the last to hear of it, despite the fact that the video had been released by the High Command. It was the captain who brought T'Pol up to speed, as he stepped onto the Bridge and caught T'Pol's eye.

"T'Pol, my Ready Room," said Archer, leading the way to that back room, which left Lt-Commander Reed automatically in command of the Enterprise, as the highest ranking officer left on the Bridge.

"Take a seat," said Archer, and then pointed towards the flat screen video monitor mounted on the wall, and initiated the playback of the video in question. "I caught part of this video in Rec Room 1, but I thought you'd like to see it."

The monitor flickered to life, a window onto a nightmare: the low-lit interior of a large Vulcan ship compartment, filled with what seemed to be a hundred or so prone figures, Vulcan or Human, all covered with bedsheets. To say that sight was grim, was an understatement, and it was augmented by a woman's moans and pleas coming from someplace nearby, but not onscreen. The image flickered as Archer fiddled with the remote control, and then displayed a different part of the ship, and then another, and then another…

T'Pol glanced at Archer, and raised brow.

"The Vulcan passenger liner named Tu'lus, attacked while on course for Earth," said Archer. "Ran in a cloaked Romulan mine five days ago, and the crew and passengers were just rescued yesterday, though as you can see they took a number of casualties."

"How did you come by this video?" said T'Pol.

"The High Command apparently thinks we should see what we're dealing with, and build a righteous resolve to stand against a people that attack civilians," said Archer. "Or maybe it's just that those of us on the sharp tip of the spear need to know these things. Take your pick. Either way, they decided to release the contents of the black box, a video record of everything that took place aboard that ship."

"I see," said T'Pol.

"You can watch it all if you like," said Archer, fast forwarding through the video while keeping an eye on the timestamp, "but check this out now."

The video soon came to a stop, at what looked to be an area adjacent to Engineering, judging by the signs in Vulcan directing visitors towards that department.

"Now pay attention to the left side of the screen," said Archer.

The captain's directions were unnecessary so far as T'Pol was concerned, for her eyes were drawn of their own accord to the sight of a Vulcan and a Human holding discourse, and though T'Pol could not hear what they were saying, hearing their voices was unnecessary. T'Pol recognized every line, every curve of the Human's face, recognized the sudden turn of the Human's head as something she'd seen often enough when Commander Tucker was in an aggressive mood and spoiling for a fight. Just then, Commander Tucker opened his mouth to speak to someone in the distance, and raised his voice in order to be clearly heard.

"Seltuk aness leipar anat, et'sirek!" said Commander Tucker in the video, and the man's words were like a slap to T'Pol's face: "Shut your mouths and start welding, you motherless curs!"

Those words were not typically found in the Vulcan 'Quick Words & Phrases' booklets often found on such passenger liners, and the accent, pronunciation and smooth tempo argued that Commander Tucker had done an excellent job of learning Vulcan while on his away mission on the T'Lek Sor, as T'Pol had never heard the man speak a word of Vulcan before that time.

Fascinating, thought T'Pol, although something about Commander Tucker's unexpected fluency in her language troubled T'Pol, for Vulcan was a noticeably difficult language to learn, and Commander Tucker did not have Ensign Sato's talents with alien languages, but there was something else there which troubled T'Pol... but what?

"That's it with Trip for this sequence," said Archer as the camera switched to another viewpoint and another deck, looking at T'Pol, "but he's bouncing all over that ship while trying to keep her together. He did good work aboard the Tu'lus. Did us all proud."

"You said that there were quite a number of casualties," said T'Pol. "I take it that Commander Tucker was not one of them? I mean, he did eventually make it off the Tu'lus, right?"

"Yes, he's all right," said Archer. "I sent him a text message, but I haven't heard from him yet. The Vulcans are still tallying the casualty count, but Trip's fine."

"I see," said T'Pol, and then she stood. "I should return to the Bridge, Captain."

"Forget about it, T'Pol," said Archer. "Let Reed conn the ship for the remainder of this shift, and take the rest of the day off. We reach Andoria tomorrow, so get some rest."

T'Pol nodded, then said, "Later this evening?"

Archer understood the question, and said, "2200 hours."

* * *

Back in her quarters now, T'Pol knelt at her meditation table, lit the candle in the center of the table, and soon afterward she lost herself in a purposeful state of no-thought awareness, and she hovered there for an indeterminate time, before finally returning to her senses, calmed and refreshed, and it was from this state that T'Pol turned her thoughts to the video she'd just recently watched in the captain's Ready Room.

She sighed.

The unexpected sight of Commander Tucker aboard that ship had been a surprise, but then she'd been thinking of the man since he'd left the Enterprise, and she'd been surprised by the sudden outpouring of physical desire, pain and longing which poured out of some unnamed part of herself, only to be brazenly dumped into her psyche. Only the fact that Archer was in the room as the video played had kept T'Pol centered enough to maintain her customary mask of Vulcan equanimity.

She no longer had the captain's presence to keep her thoughts and emotions in check, and T'Pol's thoughts reviewed the entire flow of events, from the time she'd discovered that the aborted pon'farr cycle still affected her, and she'd mistakenly, or perhaps arrogantly, decided that she could handle matters on her own, despite that cycle being her first, and thus a vast unknown. She thought then of Commander Tucker's departure from the ship for his assignment on the T'Lek Sor, after which the series of disastrous events had fallen neatly in line, one after another, each choice only making the next more logical, and unavoidable… or so she'd thought.

Commander Tucker's departure for the Columbia had caused a lot of soul searching in T'Pol, and it had all crystallized in the captain's Ready Room while watching the man serving aboard the Vulcan liner, apparently in some kind of command capacity, and T'Pol realized how dire the situation must have truly been in order for something like that to occur aboard a Vulcan ship. Trip could have easily died out there...

Well, and what if he had? Commander Tucker was a capable engineer, and he was a good man, but he was nothing more than that to her, nothing that matter—.

T'Pol sighed once more. She couldn't do it, couldn't play these games where Commander Tucker was concerned. Not this day.

I led Trip to believe that I waited for him, thought T'Pol, even if only by omitting to tell him the entire truth…

Another period of quiet reflection, and then something which had unconsciously troubled T'Pol while watching the video drew her focus now: Commander Tucker was fluent in Vulcan, or close to it. Oh, his pronunciation was not quite on point but it was pretty close, but the reason his fluency had drawn T'Pol focus was a seemingly random memory… the memory of their first time together, when she'd used the word llatur, my love, to refer to the man, and now it turned out that he'd understood the meaning of that word.

T'Pol felt nothing but a consuming sense of futility now.

He believed I was in love with him because I called him my love, thought T'Pol, and he might have felt the same emotion for me… And then, as he sees it, I held the truth from him and continued my sexual relations with the captain and Reed, and all that time I said nothing of it.

The sense of futility only grew in T'Pol, and what she'd have to do quite soon would only foster the growth of still more similar feelings, for it was almost time to bed the captain. Archer was not the one she wanted, yet she had no choice. None at all.

Before leaving her cabin, T'Pol used her computer to compose a text message for Commander Tucker and then added it to the ship's outgoing message queue. Her email would be transmitted back to Vulcan during the next scheduled transmission from the Enterprise, along with any other messages, and from Vulcan it would be transmitted back to Earth, and eventually make its way to Commander Tucker.

* * *

It was the middle of nightwatch when T'Pol left the captain's cabin and made her way back to her own cabin, and once there, she checked the status of the message she'd sent Commander Tucker: Delivered. Unopened.

She showered, then changed into her pajamas and laid down to sleep for three hours. She checked the status of her message when she woke. No change.

She headed for the Mess Hall next, where she grabbed a blueberry muffin and black tea which T'Pol ate in her quarters, after which she brushed her teeth, and then reviewed the status of her message one last time: Delivered. Unopened. Deleted.

Wonderful, thought T'Pol.

She headed for the Bridge at that point, and the start of her day. It would be a long day, for the Enterprise would reach Andoria in a matter of hours, and perhaps a long day was what was needed here. Anything to take her mind off her problems.

* * *

"The Admiral will see you now, Commander Tucker," said Evelyn, Admiral Forrest's secretary.

"Thank you, Evelyn," said Trip, and headed for Forrest's office.

The Admiral's office was located in the StarFleet's HQ building, and coming back to Earth, and this place in particular, had been an eye opener for Trip, for though the news of the attack had been devastating, actually seeing this place was shocking. Nine large buildings had been condemned and stood empty while awaiting demolition, and that was no surprise for they were nothing but burned out husks, a harsh reminder of the night on which the Imperial Shrikes had paid visit to StarFleet. Such things would not happen again if Humans had a say in it, for this place was a fortified stronghold now, heavily guarded and patrolled by a regiment of 3,000 MACOs. It was odd to see this campus take this form, but better this than a repeat attack by the Romulans.

Still, Trip had made his way here without incident on the third day since he'd been rescued from the Ta'lus along with all the still living crew and passengers, and even as he entered Forrest's office, the man took notice of Trip, smiled and waved him in.

"Trip, it's good to see you!" said Forrest. "How are you?"

"I'm alright, Admiral," said Trip, taking a seat at the admiral's bidding, "though I'll be avoiding passenger liners from now on, given a choice."

"Don't knock them," said Forrest. "The video of the Tu'lus was released on Vulcan's data nets, and it's been viewed something like fifty million times already. You did StarFleet proud, Commander. We've entered a commendation on your record for your conduct aboard that ship, after speaking to its captain."

"Much obliged, Admiral," said Trip.

"The Vulcans also send their compliments, and this," said Forrest, sliding a red velvet box towards Trip.

Trip opened it to see something like an elegant crystalline tear, an inch long, half inch wide at the bottom, carved of some bright red gemstone.

"What is it, Admiral?" said Trip, fascinated.

"One of Levok's Tears, I'm told. Some type of Vulcan gemstone. Wear it here," said Forrest, indicating a spot on the left collar of Trip's coverall uniform, of if you have no collar, wear it on the left breast."

"All right," said Trip, pinning the crimson crystal tear to his collar. "What does it signify?"

"It's a Vulcan decoration for valor and service under trying circumstances," said Forrest, "and you're the only Human decorated by the Vulcans, so make it a part of your uniform from now on. It will do both sides good to see tangible signs of our association in this war against the Romulans."

"As you say, Admiral," said Trip.

"I heard you turned down the offer for time off," said Forrest.

"I don't need time off. I need to get a grip on what's troubling the Columbia, Admiral," said Trip. "I'd like to start today."

"Good," said Forrest. "There are shuttles on the roof, so head up there. I'll have a pilot meet you, take you up to the Columbia. I want a report as soon as you get a handle on the situation, and I want a hard deadline, Commander, so that I can muster a crew for that ship, although some of the officers are there already, as are your engineers."

"Yes, sir. You'll hear from me soon," said Trip, and moments later he headed for the roof, and soon after, reached space dock and the Columbia.


	25. Chapter 25

— **Chapter 25—**

* * *

Some ten minutes after departing StarFleet's HQ building in Admiral Forrest's shuttle, Trip reached the Titan shipyards in geosynchronous orbit above the Earth, and that only after passing four Delus frigates and being cleared, and granted access to the shipyards. Out of curiosity, Trip asked the pilot to do a flyby of the shipyard, and noted that eight bays had been added since the last time he'd been here, and a dozen more bays were being assembled some distance away, all in preparation for integrating those bays into the Titan facility in the coming days.

Say what you will, thought Trip, but these Romulans have lit a fire under StarFleet's bureaucrats. A few years from now and this shipyard will live up to its name.

"All right," said Trip, looking at the pilot. "Take us to the Columbia."

"Yes, sir," said the pilot, and then contacted the Columbia in order to get clearance to dock with its Access Hatch: five minutes later they were docked to the Columbia.

"Thanks for the lift, cowboy," said Trip, grabbing his duffel bag.

"You're welcome, Commander," said the pilot, with a grin at the cowboy moniker: he was a New Yorker through and through, and there was no concealing that fact from the commander, but apparently the man was in a mood to bust some balls.

Moments later, Trip stepped out of the admiral's shuttle and onto the deck of the Columbia to find captain Erika Hernandez waiting for him.

"Trip!" said Erika, a big smile on her face, her arms spread wide in expectation of a hug.

They were alone at the Access Hatch, so Trip gave the captain a bearhug and a kiss on the cheek. They'd known each other for many years now, though they'd initially met through Jon, as Jon and Erika had an on again, off again, relationship spanning more than a decade, and yet despite that fact, Trip and Erika had always gotten along famously.

"It's good to see you, Erika," said Trip, pleased to be here, glad he'd made the decision to leave the Enterprise. "You look great."

"That's because I've just snatched one of StarFleet's best for my XO, and I did it right out from under Jon's nose," said Erika, a smug look on her face. "I've been taunting him mercilessly over that fact since I heard about your transfer, but he's not rising to my challenge."

"You should probably stop taunting him," said Trip.

"Oh?" said Erika. "Something happen with you two?"

"Yeah," said Trip. "I suppose we'll get over it eventually, but you should stop teasing him."

"Done," said Erika. "But he's not getting you back!"

"I can live with that," said Trip. "So, you make a habit of greeting all your new arrivals at the Access Hatch?"

"Just you," said Erika. "Come on, I'll take you to your quarters, XO."

"Fine, but no monkey business when we get there," said Trip, hefting his duffel bag.

Erika gave Trip a steady look, and then raised both brows playfully.

"I know you'll want to dash off to your precious Engine Room after you see your quarters," said Erika as the two walked the ship's halls, "but I'll expect you to dine with me in the Captain's Mess at precisely 1900 hours, Commander."

"Aye, Captain," said Trip.

* * *

Archer was in his Ready Room catching up on some reports as the Enterprise orbited Andoria, even as three Andorian battlecruisers kept station around the Enterprise. They'd closed in on the Enterprise some eighteen hours ago, though they'd monitored the Human ship much earlier than that, long before the Enterprise had entered Andorian territory. Thankfully, the diplomats he'd ferried here had been offloaded on Andoria in order to confer with their Andorian counterparts, and eventually secure a meeting with the Emperor.

Jon had just finished a readiness report, and was about to begin reading the next, when the comm unit built into his desk chimed softly.

"Yes?" said Archer, pressing a button on the comm unit.

"I have a transmission for you, Captain," said Ensign Sato, the ship's Comm officer.

"Put it through," said Archer, certain that it would be Admiral Ryan, calling from Vulcan to see how things were progressing, but Archer was mistaken.

"Captain Archer," said Shran, commander of the Andorian battlecruiser, the Kumari: the Andorian was wearing a smug look, which Archer now suspected was Shran's habitual mien, save when angry, but then Archer was familiar with that look as well.

"Commander Shran," said Archer, leaning back into his chair. "Long time no see. What can I do for you?"

"I just dropped out of warp, back from a patrol mission," said Shran, "and imagine my surprise to see the Enterprise orbiting Andoria. I've been told why you're here, and I gather you have some time to kill."

"I do," said Jon, curious now. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm in the mood to sample some Human foods," said Shran, "in return for a case of some fine Andorian ale."

"I could eat," said Archer. "Have your shuttle pilot dock with our Access Hatch when you get here, and I'll tell Chef to start cooking now."

"Excellent," said Shran, with a lopsided grin. "I'm on my way."

* * *

Trip reached Engineering after he'd dropped his bag off in his new cabin, having barely given the place a lookover, and with good reason as it was almost identical to his previous quarters on the Enterprise, save for two things. In addition to the large window in his cabin, which was identical to the layout of his cabin on the Enterprise, this cabin also had a round porthole window in his bathroom, and a sweet shower stall with a rainfall ceiling, which meant that water dripped from every square inch of the ceiling above the shower stall. Nice!

A moment later Trip was over it though, as he didn't really give a shit about anything. He'd come here to do a job… and he'd come to forget. Just forget everything.

Minutes after after leaving his quarters Trip reached Engineering, and after meeting everyone in his department, Trip turned his attention to understanding the causes for the numerous delays which had plagued the Columbia, and had pushed back the ship's launch date repeatedly.

He spent the next nine hours analyzing the data and test results, ordered a high-resolution set of sensor scans of the interior of the warp engine, before bringing his attention to bear of the previous Chief Engineer's daily logs, making do with a pot of coffee and a sandwich for lunch, then more reports, and more research. Eventually though, the clock ran out, and it was time to get cleaned off, and dine with the captain.

* * *

"So," said Archer, glancing shrewdly at the Andorian as he poured a shot of tequila for Shran, and a shot of Andorian ale for himself, "what made you seek me out today, Shran? No, let me guess. I owe you one, and you're here to remind me of that fact."

"Nothing like that," said Shran, raising his shot glass to Archer, and Archer to Shran: then they downed the shots, and Shran began refilling the glasses this time. "This is purely a social call, Captain, I assure you."

"Well good," said Archer, his attention drawn to the steward entering the room with their appetizers.

"What's this?" said Shran, looking down at the appetizer plates the man had just set on the table, even as his antennas pointed towards the plate, sampling the scents to a degree which Archer could not even imagine.

"Bacon wrapped seared scallops, Oysters Rockefeller and soft shelled crabs, pan fried in butter," said the steward. "Try the oysters, Commander. They're Chef's specialty, and no one but Chef knows the recipe, or ingredients."

Shran picked one of the oysters on the half shell, waved his antennas over the oyster, tasted it and groaned appreciatively, did the whole antenna waving thing once more, and said, "Butter, garlic, shallots, spinach, bacon, Pernod, salt, pepper and a dash of hot sauce.

The steward's eyes opened wide, and he said, "How did you do that, Commander?"

Shran gave the man a wide grin, and waved his antennas.

"That's all well and good, Commander," said the steward, "but I'm going to do you a favor, and forget you said anything. You should do the same, if you want to leave this ship alive. Chef is very protective of his special recipes and ingredients."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Shran, chuckling at the thought of a chef actually threatening an Imperial Guard.

Archer ate two scallops and then turned his attention to one of the soft shelled crabs, but he paused momentarily in the act of dismembering that creature to say, "So, what do you think the odds of Andoria joining us in an alliance, in order to keep the Romulans from our collective throats?"

"I can't speak for the Emperor, Captain," said Shran.

"But how do you feel about it, Shran?"

"I don't particularly care either way," said Shran. "I'd shed no tears if the Romulans bloodied the Vulcans, but I do find your species intriguing. Why do you choose to stand with the Vulcans?"

Jon could have answered the question in a number of ways, but he settled on an answer which the Andorian would surely understand, and said, "We owe them, Shran. They piss me off more often than not, they're a pain in the ass to deal with, they're… Never mind. We owe them."

Shran nodded thoughtfully, and the two men took another round of shots, before the steward returned with their next course: thick Porterhouse steaks in Chef's mushroom sauce, served with garlic and butter mashed potatoes, stir-fried broccoli drizzled with a cream sauce, roasted cauliflower and a salad.

"I can understand that line of reasoning, Captain," said Shran, after which the Andorian expressed his appreciation for the quality of the captain's table. "Your loyalty is an admirable quality."

They ate and talked of mundane matters, Archer dancing over Shran's questions of Trip's absence, and then eventually, dessert was served. A crepe mille cake, composed of thirty layers of crepes, between each crepe a light coating of a vanilla cream with a faint floral scent, the whole cake topped with more of such cream, and all that layered with thin slices of fresh mango. Shran loved this cake, and ate three giant slices of it, before regretfully leaving the rest behind.

"You're welcome to knock it out, Shran," said Archer, who had been satisfied with a single slice.

"No, no," said Shran regretfully, though he seemed to consider it at some length. "No. I've had enough."

"You sure?" said Archer, smiling now.

"Yes... yes, I'm sure."

"All right," said Archer. "What now?"

"You've never been aboard an Andorian battlecruiser as far as I know," said Shran. "Would you like to take a tour of the Kumari?"

"I'd like that very much," said Archer.

* * *

Trip stepped into the Captain's Mess with only minutes to spare, and Erika smiled when she saw Trip.

"Good to see you made it just in time, Commander," said Erika. "I'd hate to reprimand you on the first day aboard my ship."

"I agree. That would never do, Captain," said Trip, as he eyed the captain's table.

A tactical decision was called for here and now. The captain's table was a six topper, though it could be expanded at need, and the captain had taken one of the seats on the end of the table, facing towards the stern of the ship.

"Take the opposite end of the table from me, Trip," said Erika. "I've asked some our officers to dine with us. Everyone's curious about you, and we need some proper introductions all around."

"Fair enough," said Trip, not really in the mood for a meet-and-greet, but knowing it had to be done.

"The only one not in attendance tonight is Chief Engineer Li," said Erika. "He's winding down his current assignment, before he assumes his duties here."

"No problem, Captain," said Trip, just as glad to go it alone on this matter of prepping the Columbia. "I'll have the Columbia up to spec by the time the Chief boards the ship."

"That's the kind of confidence I want in my XO," said Erika, nodding approvingly.

The command crew began trickling in then, and Trip took note of each of them as they took their accustomed places when dining in the Captain's Mess, and were then each introduced in turn, by the captain, to the new XO.

Ensign Mark Philby, Helm officer.

Ensign Elisse Merrick, Communication officer.

The next member of the crew was a surprise. SubCommander Ayvok, a Vulcan, part of the personnel exchange between StarFleet and the High Command: Ayvok was the Columbia's Tactical officer.

"So, can we eat now?" said Trip, ever vigilant about the state of his stomach.

"We're waiting for one more person, Trip," said Erika.

Just then, the door to the Captain's Mess slid open, and a pretty Vulcan female stepped into the room.

Trip gave an inward groan, and thought, 'You've got to be kidding me!'

The Vulcan beauty took the only seat still empty, at Trip's left hand. She turned towards him then, her lovely face looking at the man with open interest, for she'd already met everyone days earlier.

"Commander Tucker," said the captain, "allow me to introduce you to Senior-Lieutenant T'Fel, her Vulcan Navy rank. She's on loan to us until the Vulcan equipment we've integrated into the Columbia, just recently, is working flawlessly."

T'Fel smiled slightly as she looked at Commander Tucker, noting with some surprise that the man wore one of Levok's Tears, the Vulcan decoration for valor and service under trying circumstances, pinned to his left collar: that was most interesting.

"Sr-Lieutenant T'Fel," said Trip.

"T'Fel will do, Commander Tucker," said T'Fel.

* * *

***The icon which goes with this story is the Vulcan T'Fel.


	26. Chapter 26

— **Chapter 26 —**

* * *

The dinner party was finally done with, and Ensigns Merrick and Philby had just departed the Captain's Mess, when Trip stood and excused himself to head back to Engineering, followed a moment later by Ayvok.

"I wonder if I could accompany you to Engineering, Commander Tucker," said Ayvok. "I have a request to make of that department."

Trip nodded, and said, "Sure, SubCommander. Let's walk and talk."

Moments later, the room was cleared save for Erika, T'Fel, and the captain's steward.

"Looks like it's just us gals, T'Fel," said Erika. "Some coffee?"

T'Fel nodded, and said, "And perhaps something sweet?"

Erika smiled, and said, "I knew there had to be a reason we get along so well, T'Fel."

* * *

"So what do you think, Commander Tucker?" said Ayvok, who'd just proposed an idea to integrate some Vulcan components into the Columbia's phaser cannon banks in order to improve their performance.

"In principle I like the idea, SubCommander," said Trip, just stepping into Engineering with Ayvok by his side. "My first priority is getting the Columbia out of space dock, but it would be foolish of me to overlook any advantage we might create for ourselves. This thing with the Romulans will turn into a shooting match any time now, and it's my duty to make certain that this ship is ready for war."

"Our duty, Commander Tucker," said Ayvok. "I am after all, the ship's Tactical officer."

"Right, SubCommander. By the way, you can call me Trip if you like," said Trip. "It's my nickname."

"Ayvok," said the Vulcan.

Trip nodded, and said, "Well, let's crunch some numbers, Ayvok, and decide if the gains we'd get from the suggested upgrades is worth doing now, or if we should put them off 'till later."

Ayvok nodded, and gestured that Trip should lead the way.

Four hours later they were still at it, having decided that the changes Ayvok had proposed were indeed worth doing now, rather than later, and the two men were deep in the process of putting everything in motion, requisitioning the proper Vulcan components, scheduling time for Tactical's crew to do their part, the engineers to do theirs, all in order to upgrade the Columbia's phaser cannon batteries. This preparatory process would consume most of the night, so Trip eventually called for a coffee break in the Mess Hall.

It was there that T'Fel saw Ayvok and Commander Tucker working in the Mess Hall, each man focused on their own PADD (Personal Access Data Device) unit, even as they occasionally exchanged some bit of information pertinent to the task at hand, and T'Fel took her coffee to a corner table, from which she could watch Ayvok and Commander Tucker quite discreetly, while seeming to be doing no such thing.

There was an interesting dynamic between the two men, as most Humans found Ayvok somewhat intimidating, and though Ayvok was too disciplined to show it, the Vulcan didn't really click with most Humans either. It was a matter of body language, and Ayvok's mannerisms, his absolute stillness unless he had reason to make a gesture, his glossy black eyes, and his intense look seemed to put most Humans ill at ease. Not Commander Tucker though.

And Ayvok responded in kind, clearly comfortable with the man, and it was telling of that fact when the Vulcan stood and walked to the beverage dispenser, only to return to the table with two cups of coffee, though Commander Tucker had not asked for any. Regardless, the Human spoke a few words to express his gratitude to Ayvok, took a sip of coffee, and the Vulcan simply nodded and returned to his work. They made a good team.

And yet Commander Tucker dislikes me, thought T'Fel. Why?

While speaking with the man earlier, at the captain's dinner table, she'd found the man to be intelligent, pleasant enough to be agreeable and possessed of a good sense of humor, though he seemed to direct it at the other diners gathered round the table… In fact, he'd been somewhat distant with her. Oh, he was polite enough, but there was a wall between them, and it was clear that he'd chosen to share nothing of himself with her.

T'Fel would have normally assumed that the commander was off-put by Vulcans, but he seemed comfortable enough with Ayvok, and T'Fel knew that Commander Tucker had been one of the passengers offloaded from the crippled Vulcan passenger liner which had just narrowly escaped disaster, so she knew the Human had no problems with Vulcans, else he'd have taken a StarFleet vessel back to Earth.

Most curious.

Just then Ayvok and the Human commander stood, seemingly intent on returning to Engineering judging by the content of their chatter, so T'Fel stared into her coffee cup until the two men had left the Mess Hall.

* * *

Dieter Muller entered his townhouse in an upscale neighborhood of Berlin, and breathed a sigh of relief. His day as one of a legion of mid-level bureaucrats in EarthGov's governing body was stressful, but a bright beam of light had come into his life lately, in the form of a lovely Vulcan woman named Zeja.

They'd met ten months ago, when he'd suffered a tire blowout on a rainy day. He'd controlled his car and pulled off the road immediately, though he'd plowed into a guardrail in the process, losing his right headlight and screwing up the front of his car during the impact. That car was in no shape to make it home that night, but Dieter was simply relieved to be in one piece at the end of it all. Fortunately, another vehicle driver had noted his distress and pulled up next to Dieter's auto, in order to offer the man a ride into town.

The driver of that auto had been Zeja, and she'd been a godsend that night. In truth, Dieter would have taken assistance from the devil himself on that stormy night, but the fact that Zeja had the face of an angel had made his decision a foregone conclusion, and so Dieter accepted that ride, just as Zeja later accepted an invitation to dine with Dieter the next night, as thanks for her assistance.

From that night it had all fallen magically into place for them, with feelings of such chemistry that they ended up in his bed after their first date, where Dieter came to discover that the common belief that Vulcans were passionless creatures was a lie. Within weeks, he and Zeja were constant companions, and just months later, Dieter was in love. They'd eventually have to firm things up, but for now, Dieter was content to simply enjoy it all.

"Zeja. Are you here?" said Dieter, setting his keys on the kitchen counter, his briefcase on the coffee table, and his jacket across the back of a chair.

He'd given Zeja a key to his place months ago, and though she still had her own apartment, she spent most of her off time here.

"Ah, Dieter," said Zeja as she entered the living room, and giving the man a slight smile. "How are you, my dear? I did not hear you come in. Give me a few moments to start the laundry machine."

Dieter nodded and collapsed in his overstuffed chair. It had been a long day. A few minutes later, Zeja came back into the room, poured them each a tumbler of Scotch and handed Dieter a glass, then sat on the coffee table, looking directly at the man.

"Thank you, my dear," said Dieter.

Zeja nodded, and said, "How was your day?"

"Exhausting."

"You do such an important job, Dieter," said Zeja.

"I'm just a bureaucrat, Zeja," said Dieter. "Others collect the data I handle, and which I evaluate before passing on to others. A necessary task, but no more."

"Not so, Dieter," said Zeja. "Not so."

"If you say so," said Dieter after polishing off his drink, and in truth, the data he handled was dealing with civilian contractors and sub-contractors to EarthGov and StarFleet: important, but hardly exciting.

"I do," said Zeja. "Now, go take a shower, and we'll eat, after which we can either vegetate, or copulate."

Dieter chuckled at Zeja's typically Vulcan directness, then stood and said, "Good ideas, one and all, my sweet."

Zeja spent the next few moments sipping on her drink, until her sensitive hearing made out the sound of running water. She moved quickly then, kneeling on the floor as she fiddled with Dieter's briefcase. The case had a good combination lock, which was a laughable precaution when Dieter was so lax with security procedures around her.

Not that it would have mattered: she was trained to bypass all manner of security devices. Anyway, it was true that the data in which Dieter dealt was not critical at first glance, but fitted into a larger picture along with many other data points from various sources, it all contributed to a tantalizing, if incomplete vision of Earth's ongoing preparations for war, and the best places and ways in which to throw a wrench into the midst of such preparations.

A moment later, briefcase open, Zeja took Dieter's portable harddrive out of it's carry case and set it on the coffee table, and then detached her watch face from her wrist, and set it atop the harddrive. A moment later, the device which passed for a watch lit up, and the harddrive began humming as every bit of information was sponged off it. Twenty seconds later, the process was complete, and ten seconds later the harddrive was back in the briefcase, and the case back where Dieter had laid it down initially.

She'd make an excuse later to pop out for a bit, and pass the encrypted data to one of her contacts, where the data would be decrypted, and passed on to her superior Tal Shiar officer, and then it would pass to the Imperial Shrikes and Marines, to make use of the data as they saw fit: even the Tal Shiar had learned to not meddle in the affairs of the Imperial Shrikes, though it had taken a nasty little private war a few years past, between the two organizations, to settle that matter… for now.

Just then Zeja heard the bathroom door open, and a moment later Dieter entered the room, and Zeja gave a slight, but agreeable smile. Mating with these inferior Humans was just part and parcel of the current assignment for Major Getta of the Tal'Shiar, but Dieter was amusing enough that she had no complaints. She could have done much worse.

* * *

As the turbo-lift came to a stop on D Deck, T'Fel pressed past two people to exit there, and headed for Engineering, arriving there minutes later. There was a palpable air of motion and excitement there, created no doubt by the presence of the XO, who'd taken to his mission to see the Columbia out of space dock with a proper vengeance, since he'd boarded the ship, some four days ago.

She'd seen the man about the ship, though they'd spoken only a few brief words, given how completely occupied he'd been with the ship, and Ayvok's phase cannon batteries, but T'Fel had tracked the progress the man was making, and she had to admit that he was making things happen.

Case in point, he'd located one of the primary causes of failure in the warp engines when he'd studied the deep scans of the engine compartment which she'd provided him, and he'd determined that one of the major components in the warp containment chamber had been improperly manufactured. Oh, it was as perfectly drop forged as all the other components, but the composition of the metal fell somewhat short of specs, whether through a mistake on the manufacturer's part or a purposeful attempt to squeeze out a higher profit margin from the order, but the metallurgical error was responsible for a number of micro-fractures in that casing before the ship had even left dock, and furthermore, the impurity of the metal affected the magnetic resonance of the matter/anti-matter chamber, making for an unbalanced warp field. All in all, T'Fel was a bit put off with herself: she should have spotted that flaw herself, before passing the scans off to the XO.

In any case, the XO was pissed now. The faulty component was deep inside the engine, and there was no easy way to get to it as T'Fel saw things, but it was something which had to be done properly. A new component had been ordered, but it would be at least two weeks in the making and machining, and then would come the time to crack the engine open and make the swap, with all of the headaches such a task entailed. And that was not the only problem with the Columbia. Still, the XO was a sensible man, and had requisitioned additional engineers from Earth, lest he burn his own people out completely, and things were getting done with engineering crews working on the ship around the clock.

One of the engineers had noticed T'Fel, and he'd approached the Vulcan.

"May I help you, Sr-Lieutenant?"

"I have some data the XO might find of use," said T'Fel. "I was just looking for the man."

"The XO is on F Deck, Forward Armory, sir. I'll take that data, and make sure the XO gets it first thing."

"No, need. I was heading that way on another errand," said T'Fel, stretching the truth a bit: she would have indeed headed in that general direction, though she'd have been nowhere near F Deck, or the Forward Armory.

"As you wish, sir," said the engineer, returning to his duties.

Five minutes later T'Fel reached the Forward Armory to see a half dozen engineers taking phaser cannon battery B apart, while the XO and Ayvok supervised the procedure, and as T'Fel approached the two men, their discussion became audible.

"…that should not be necessary, XO," said Ayvok. "The power requirements won't be that extreme."

"Listen," said Trip, "I won't tell you how to aim your cannons, you don't tell me how to power you cannons. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said Ayvok.

"Good," said Trip. "You'll thank me if you ever fin—"

"Excuse me," said T'Fel, and both men turned to face her.

T'Fel held a PADD unit out towards the XO, and said, "Some of the data you've been requesting of the science department."

"I appreciate it, Sr-Lieutenant," said Trip. "This will come in handy. Thank you."

T'Fel nodded, expecting the man to say more: Humans were usually so talkative.

"Anything else?" said the XO, looking at T'Fel.

"Ah… no," said T'Fel.

She spun on her heels and headed for the Bridge, her mind racing: had she offended the XO somehow? Oh, he was always so perfectly polite, but still…


	27. Chapter 27

— **Chapter 27 —**

* * *

"Good morning, Captain," said Trip as he stepped into the captain's Ready Room some ten minutes after 0800 hours.

"Morning, Trip," said Erika. "Take a seat, my little worker ant."

"Thanks," said Trip.

"Missed you at breakfast," said Erika. "Tell me you didn't stay up all night, working in Engineering."

"No," said Trip. "I hit the mattress five hours ago, but I woke up too late to take a full breakfast with you, Captain."

"Well, don't miss lunch today," said Erika. "It's Fish Friday, a British style fish and chips basket with all the fried cod you can eat."

"Oh, ok," said Trip. "On the Enterprise we had Falafel Fridays."

Erika snickered and said, "Are you trolling me?"

"Yes. Yes I am, Captain."

Erika nodded her appreciation of Trip's gambit, and then said, "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," said Trip.

The captain reached to the right of her desk, grabbed a clean cup, tossed three sugar cubes into the cup and then filled it with fresh coffee from a thermos she'd just had delivered.

"Here," said Erika, sliding the cup towards Trip.

"Mmmm, good. Sooo good," said Trip, coffee being the life's blood of any self-respecting engineer.

"Glad you like it," said Erika, amused with her XO now. "It's from Chef's private stash. He shares it with me now and then, if I'm good."

"I say you commandeer this coffee," said Trip, sipping the hot black coffee as quickly as possible. "It would be safer in our hands, than Chef's."

"You wouldn't want it, if you knew how it was processed," said Erika.

"Tell me," said Trip.

"You'll be sorry," said Erika, with a wicked grin. "It's called Kopi Luwak, and the coffee beans first pass through the digestive system of a civet cat, which feeds on coffee beans. Its droppings are then collected, and the coffee is processed as normal, but the fermentation in the civet cat's digestive tract is said to improve the flavor."

Waiting for an exaggerated response from Trip, Erika was disappointed, as Trip merely took a big sip, while holding eye contact with Erika.

"If you'd told me that this coffee had first passed through Chef's digestive system, I'd still drink it," said Trip, unfazed. "It's that good."

Erika laughed and gave Trip a few minutes to savor his coffee in peace as she flipped back and forth through the data on a PADD unit which Elkins, head of Ship's Operations, had forwarded to the captain..

"Some more?" said Erika, noting that Trip was draining the last of his coffee.

"Yes, please," said Trip, holding out his cup, as Erika tossed in some sugar, and then topped off his cup once more.

"So, how are things going?" said the captain finally. "You've been working like a madman."

"We're in good shape, Captain," said Trip. "I've got a good handle of things, and I believe that I've identified every technical hurdle standing in our way, so we're well on our way to overcoming our problems in relatively short order."

"Can you give me a hard date, Trip?" said Erika. "Admiral Forrest is checking up on our progress twice a week."

"Seven weeks, Captain," said Trip. "And that's working round the clock."

"Seven?" said Erika.

"Trust me, Captain," said Trip. "It's the earliest possible launch date, and we'll meet it, but we've got some serious work to do."

"That will do, Trip," said Erika. "Our previous best estimate was four months."

"Well, then Admiral Forrest should be pleased with us all," said Trip. "The toughest part of it all comes next week, when the Atlas delivers an eight foot square section of the containment chamber wall. That's the part which was improperly engineered, and it's gonna be a bitch to deal with, but we'll get it done."

"If you say so, I believe it, Trip," said Erika.

"Thanks for the coffee, Captain," said Trip, rising to his feet, "but now I need to get down to Engineering."

"Carry on then," said Erika. "Now, you're sure about that time estimate? We can pad it by a week or two."

"No, Captain," said Trip. "We'll get her done in seven weeks, or I'll blow my brains out on the Bridge to atone for my failure."

"I'm looking forward to either outcome, Trip," said Erika with a grin. "Have fun in Engineering, and don't forget: Fish Friday! The fish is to die for, the chips/fries crispy, the green peas mushy."

"Ok, I'm in," said Trip. "Thanks for the coffee, Captain."

* * *

With forty-five minutes to go before she had to report for her shift on the Bridge, T'Pol decided to make use of that time to meditate. It was a logical use of her time, as she'd needed to double her total time in meditation since that unpleasant business with Commander Tucker, when he'd abandoned her… that is, when he'd abandoned the ship some fifteen days ago. Things had gotten worse for T'Pol since he'd left, worse in some intangible way, and now T'Pol found her couplings with Reed and Archer barely adequate, while the emotional wear and tear of suppressing her emotions was wearing on T'Pol's control, despite her most logical attempts at inner persuasion.

T'Pol sighed, then emptied her mind as she sought the center, as she sought the peace which such emptiness usually brought, but it was not to be, not this day.

Instead she had a brief mental image of Commander Tucker, or rather, a statue of him, carved from granite. He faced away from her and when T'Pol tried to walk around the statue to view it from the front, either the ground moved, or the statue turned, but she could not see anything but the back of the statue, and then that mental image vanished, and T'Pol was herself once more.

Curious, and somewhat unsettling.

* * *

The Mess Hall of the Columbia was not an overly large room as space was at a premium on any starship, and so the crew rotated through the Mess Hall for hot meals, though takeout snacks were available at all hours, and it was to the Mess Hall that T'Fel headed at the moment. She preferred the third meal rotation, as it was usually the smallest and thus the least crowded, and it was no loss at all to come in third, for Chef ran the kitchen with an iron fist and the quality of the food did not suffer from one crew rotation to the next.

She made the Mess Hall in short order, and as expected there were less than a dozen people here now. Excellent! Five of those people were crowded round a corner table though, and T'Fel looked curiously in that direction as she passed through the food line, in order to determine what was occurring there, and through a brief split in the screen hiding that table from her sight, T'Fel saw Commander Tucker.

T'Fel knew that Commander Tucker generally favored that table if he was eating with the crew, and coincidentally, the man favored the third meal rotation as well, but it did not seem that he was holding court in some official capacity, given by the mood round the table, and T'Fel could not help but idly wonder what the man was doing to draw the rapt attention of those crewmen gathered round his table. Eventually she had her answer, when one crewman and then another left the Mess Hall to return to their duties, leaving some gaps in the screen, through which T'Fel saw that Commander Tucker was playing the multi-storied 3D Vulcan chess against Ayvok, and the game seemed to be hotly contested between them.

T'Fel watched the two men fiercely vying with each other for victory as she consumed her meal, and noted their different style of play: Ayvok was controlled and quiet, focusing on victory while betraying no emotional anxiety, while Commander Tucker was seemingly either joyful and ecstatic at the completion of a successful move, or seemingly sunk to the depths of depression when successfully attacked by Ayvok, but it seemed to be a good natured match between them, and eventually the assembled Humans groaned good naturedly, and dispersed after a few moments of commiseration with Commander Tucker.

"I'll get you next time, Ayvok," said Trip. "I see my mistakes now, in hindsight, and I've already drawn up a masterful campaign for our next match. I'll crush you next time!"

"I look forward to the thrashing, Commander Tucker," said Ayvok, and with that Trip made his farewell.

T'Fel rose to drop her now empty tray in the proper bus tub, then got a fresh cup of coffee and approached Ayvok.

"SubCommander," said T'Fel. "May I join you?"

Ayvok nodded, still industriously working to pack his valued chess pieces and board, in it's carry case.

"You seem to be spending a great deal of time with Commander Tucker," said T'Fel.

"I find the man's company agreeable," said Ayvok.

"That is odd," said T'Fel. "He seems so emotional, while you are… properly disciplined, SubCommander."

"Even so, stranger things have happened, T'Fel," said Ayvok.

"I suppose," said T'Fel. "I trust you have noticed that he wears one of Levok's Tears. Did you ask Commander Tucker how he came by it?"

Ayvok, looked at T'Fel now, and said, "He earned it by serving the Tu'lus during its recent attack. He took charge of what was left of the engineering crew of that crippled ship, and did his best for our people, and his."

"I see," said T'Fel. "Well, I must return to duty, SubCommander. Congratulations on your victory."

Ayvok nodded agreeably, and with that, T'Fel made her exit.

* * *

"Dieter, are you home?" said Zeja, as she entered the man's home.

"Yes," said Dieter, and when Zeja entered the living room, she saw that the man was seated on the couch.

"I called and left a message yesterday, to tell you I'm coming over today," said Zeja. "I hope you got the message, and I hope you have some time for me."

Dieter simply nodded at Zeja's words.

"How are you, Dieter?" said Zeja as she slipped out of her jacket. "I am sorry I couldn't make it here the past few days. Work has been demanding."

"I understand," said Dieter.

"Are you ill, my dear?" said Zeja. "You're so pale."

"No," said Dieter. "Come, Zeja, sit on the couch. I'd like to speak with you about something."

"All right," said Zeja, and took the couch, looking across the coffee table at Dieter. "What is on your mind?"

Just then, Zeja heard a faint sound, and turned to see three Humans aiming compact phaser rifles directly at her.

"Get on the floor, Romulan," said the lead Human. "Face down, arms out to the sides."

Zeja turned to look at Dieter, and Dieter said, "A standard security sweep determined that my harddrive was being accessed without the input of my password. They brought me in and started asking questions, Zeja."

Zeja sneered, and said, "So it seems you Humans are not as incompetent as we'd thought."

"I'm sorry about this, Zeja," said Dieter, and the man truly meant those words.

"No matter, Dieter," said Zeja.

"Get on floor, Romulan," said the armed Human who had spoken earlier. "I won't ask again."

Zeja looked at the armed Humans contemptuously, then clenched her jaws, and promptly collapsed to the floor, body twitching uncontrollably.

"Shit!" said the armed leader. "Get an ambulance!"

"What's happening?" said Dieter.

"She had some poison concealed in her mouth," said the leader. "Probably a false tooth or something. First time it's happened though. They usually prefer to fight back, take some of us with them, if they can. I guess she knew it was hopeless."

Dieter said nothing, just looked on miserably as the woman he loved finally stopped moving, a froth of saliva dribbling from her now dark blue lips.

"She was a ballsy bitch," said the armed leader, knowing that the medical response would be useless: if one chose poison as a mechanism of suicide, one chose an effective poison.

Dieter had no response to that: this had to be a nightmare!

* * *

"I hear the negotiations with the Andorian Emperor are going well," said Admiral Ryan, calling from Vulcan.

"Well I'm glad we're doing some good here, and not just orbiting Andoria," said Archer. "We've been here for a week now. How much longer, Admiral?"

"Give it a few more days," said Ryan. "If the negotiations aren't concluded by then, we'll send you on your way, and send a diplomatic runner for our diplomats, but the Enterprise serves as a symbol. It was you that outed the Vulcan's secret listening post at that monastery, and it's good for the Andorians to be reminded that they can count on us to be impartial, if they join our alliance."

Archer sighed. Ryan's reasoning made sense, but Jon wasn't the type to savor such dull assignments.

"Understood, sir," said Archer.

"I hear that the Andorians have been good hosts," said Ryan. "Your crew's had a chance to visit the planet?"

"Yes, Admiral," said Archer, "and they've been on their best behavior."

"Good," said Ryan. "Keep it that way."

"Aye, sir."

* * *

"I know that we do not have a close relationship, Subcommander, though we have an intimate one, but I'm going to take the liberty of speaking freely," said Malcolm, slipping into a robe, as T'Pol dressed after one of their trysts.

"On what topic?" said T'Pol.

"You've been out of sorts since Commander Tucker left the ship," said Malcolm.

T'Pol's instinct was to tell Reed to mind his own business, but the last thing she needed now was to add more tension to this whole regrettable situation.

"What makes you say that?" said T'Pol, after a barely suppressed sigh.

"Simple observation, SubCommander. I've noticed that the spark's seemingly gone out of you, with Trip gone from the ship," said Malcolm. "You've drawn into your shell since he's left, acting much as you did when you first boarded this ship two years ago. I didn't realize the effect Trip had on you: hell, now that I see things in hindsight, even your arguments brought you two closer. So I have to—"

"Your point, Mr. Reed?" said T'Pol, Reed's words twisting the knife in her heart.

"Perhaps you should reach out to Trip, let him know how you feel, SubCommander."

"I tried that. Don't you think I tried that?" said T'Pol. "Commander Tucker rejected me out of hand, and then he left the ship shortly after we had that discussion."

"I see," said Malcolm, and then fell silent for a while, before speaking again. "Well, just remember that Humans are emotional creatures, but things can change with us."

"Meaning what precisely?" said T'Pol, dressed now.

"Just that if you still want him, still want to be with him, it's not hopeless, SubCommander," said Malcolm. "He may come around in time."

"I hope that you are correct," said T'Pol, and with that, the Vulcan left the man's cabin.


	28. Chapter 28

— **Chapter 28 —**

* * *

All was finally in order when the Engineering crew began to replace the improperly engineered wall of the warp containment chamber, and though that job would have normally been brutal and time-consuming, a timely innovation by Commander Tucker made the matter merely demanding.

This procedure was not something which would typically be performed as a matter of course, for it required that the twenty-three ton engine be essentially separated into pieces along the same joins where it was welded together, until the desired area of the engine was exposed. Then, the flawed 1,400 pound containment wall would be removed and replaced with the newly delivered containment wall, and the engine joined back together… all this was easier said than done, given the extreme weight of each individual component.

And this is where Commander Tucker's insight had come to the rescue, for the man had his crew don the magnetic boots normally used for walking on the exterior surfaces of the hull, then had the grav-plating's power reduced by ninety-five percent, and with that move a Herculean task became much easier, if still no walk in the park. And so it went, hour after hour, until the job was complete.

* * *

And so Trip stepped into the Captain's Ready Room some twenty hours after his crew had begun the job, and smiled when Erika began a slow clap.

"I'm not sure what I did to deserve that, Captain," said Trip, taking a seat, "but I'll take it."

"What you did was finally come out of your hidey-hole, Trip. I missed you at breakfast, I missed you at lunch, I missed you at dinner," said Erika, "and I assumed that you were hiding out because you screwed up my ship, and were afraid to face me."

"Nothing like that, my pet," said Trip with an impudent grin, "but I couldn't break away in time to honor your precious meal time schedule."

Erika snickered at Trip naming her his pet, as it was something he'd done before, always in private, and she'd always found it amusing.

"Sure, hold the fact that I like orderly mealtimes and regimented meals against me, you jerk! Anyway, your little innovation of fiddling with the grav-plating to make the job easier is a first, as I understand," said Erika. "Admiral Forrest called in the middle of your little operation, and when I told him what you were doing he laughed. He thinks that's the first time that's been done, even though it seems so logical in retrospect."

"Well, he's an Admiral," said Trip. "I'm an engineer."

"That you are," said Erika, "but just until we get this bucket of bolts out of space dock. Don't get too comfy in Engineering, Trip. You're not going back to that, you understand?"

Trip nodded agreeably, drew a PADD unit from his pocket and slid it towards the captain.

"Our status as of two hours ago," said Trip. "Still on schedule, and we can release half of the supplementary engineers to go on to their next assignment. I'm sure the fleet can make use of them elsewhere."

"All right," said the captain, flipping through the readiness reports.

"I need to grab a bite to eat, Captain," said Trip, "then get some sleep. I've got seven hours before I have to be back in Engineering."

"Go then," said Erika, "and Godspeed!"

Trip headed for the door, but the captain called out once more.

"I'm glad you're here, Trip," said Erika. "I'm finally starting to believe we'll get this old girl out of spacedock."

"That we will," said Trip, as he stepped from the room.

* * *

Minutes later, Trip entered the Mess Hall and found it largely empty save for a table of six crewmen, and though they'd already eaten, they were making use of the table for what sounded like a rousing game of poker. Trip went through the food line next, choosing a large serving of lasagna, some stir fried vegetables, creamed spinach and an iced tea, after which he took his usual corner table.

It was there that T'Fel spotted the man when she stepped into the Mess Hall for some hot tea and she tarried in the Mess Hall, pretending to study the food selections, as all the while her mind raced and T'Fel worked to build her resolve to speak with the XO. Finally, she found her courage and stepped up the the commander's table, where Trip was busy stuffing his face.

"Commander," said T'Fel.

"Evening, T'Fel," said Trip, involuntarily noting the Vulcan's beauty even as he raised brow at her, in an unconscious mannerism he'd picked up from T'Pol.

"I wonder if I might have a few moments of your time," said T'Fel.

"Sure," said Trip. "Please, sit."

T'Fel did as asked, suddenly uncertain on precisely how to broach the matter she yearned to discuss. The commander made it easy for her.

"So, what's up, T'Fel?" said Trip. "What can I do for you?"

"May I speak freely?"

"Always," said Trip.

"Have I offended you in some way, Commander Tucker?"

"Not at all. Why do you ask?" said Trip, before popping a broccoli floret into his mouth.

"It is just a feeling, Commander Tucker," said T'Fel. "You seem to go out of your way to avoid me at times."

"You're mistaken, T'Fel," said Trip, chopping up his lasagna, while looking at T'Fel. "I'm spending most of my time in Engineering now, so I don't have much contact with Science, or the Bridge crew. That will change once I finish my work there, and take the Bridge."

T'Fel nodded, for she understood the man's logic, though it was plain that she did not buy Trip's excuse even as she said, "As you say, Commander Tucker."

Trip sighed, and said, "T'Fel, before I accepted this assignment, I went through something of a breakup. You did nothing to offend me. I am simply burying myself in work, as a means to keep my mind off other matters. Personal matters. Painful matters."

"Oh, I understand," said T'Fel, the commander's sincerity plain to see. "Well I thank you for that explanation, Commander, as I was certain that I had violated some Human custom and offended you."

"Listen, T'Fel," said Trip, "we have to work together, and we have to do so efficiently. Let's you and I agree that we will always be honest with one another in order to avoid future misunderstandings."

"That is a logical proposal, Commander Tucker," said T'Fel, "and I will bind myself to our agreement."

With that, Trip wolfed down the last of his lasagna, and said, "Good talk, T'Fel, but I need to get some sleep now. I need to be back in Engineering at 0400 hours."

"Yes, of course. Thank you for speaking with me, Commander Tucker," said T'Fel, "and I apologize for disturbing your dinner."

"It was no trouble at all, T'Fel. Good night."

With that Trip stood, gave a slight farewell wave, dumped his dishes in the bus tub and headed for his quarters, even as T'Fel felt better now, for having talked to the XO.

* * *

The Andorian Emperor had come to an agreement for Andoria's participation in an alliance with Earth and Vulcan, and furthermore he suggested that Earth's diplomats visit Tellar and try to induce them to join this alliance as well, for Tellar's ability to produce the strategic metals so necessary to a modern starship were second to none, and as a parting thought, the Emperor suggested that attempts should be made to induce Denobula, Risa and Regulus to join the fledgling federation as well.

The Andorians were a handful at the best of times, none more so than their Emperor, yet their aid would be crucial in repelling the Romulans, and so the diplomats, both Human and Vulcan promised to coordinate such efforts as soon as they returned to Vulcan, and truth be told, the Emperor's suggestions were both, logical and appropriate. As a gesture of goodwill for the Emperor's solidarity, the sensor upgrades received not long ago from Harris were handed over to the Andorians, so that they might modify their sensors and have a chance to detect cloaked Romulan ships. Afterwards, the diplomats boarded the Enterprise once more, and that ship set course for Vulcan at best speed, an escort of three Andorian battlecruisers seeing them safely to Vulcan space.

* * *

Four days later, the Enterprise assumed orbit around Vulcan, and the diplomats were offloaded for a bit to discuss the Emperor's suggestions with the High Command and EarthGov, after which those same diplomats would once more board the Enterprise, and head for Tellar.

"We will be here for a few days, Captain," said T'Pol. "I wonder if I might take some personal time."

"Sure," said Archer. "Problems?"

T'Pol actually seemed to consider on precisely how to answer the question, before she said, "My mother wishes to see me."

"Oh," said Archer, for he'd gotten the impression that the relationship between mother and daughter had not always been easy.

"Go, and call for an emergency beam-out if you need it," said Archer.

"Gratitude," said T'Pol, and shortly afterwards she headed for the Shuttle Bay.

Thirty minutes after leaving the Bridge, T'Pol found herself standing outside her mother's house, and after a deep breath to steel her nerves, she passed through the front gate and stepped into the small courtyard, fringed by native plant life well suited to this harsh planet, and after pausing there briefly to admire the flowers in bloom, T'Pol stepped up to the front door, preparing to knock.

T'Les beat T'Pol to the door, answering the door before T'Pol could knock on the wooden door.

T'Les gave her daughter a tart look, the hint of a smile on her lips, and she said, "Well, come on then, T'Pol."

* * *

"…and so," said the reporter, "this new organization, Terra Prime, headed by Congressman Osbourne is doing a fair job of winning adherents to it's principles, among them is non-involvement in alien wars. Here to speak with us, is Congressman Osbourne."

"Thank you, Katy," said Osbourne.

"Now, Congressman," said the reporter, "why does Terra Prime insist that we pull out of this conflict? Don't we owe the Vulcans for the help they gave us in the past?"

"Listen, Katy," said Osbourne, "these Romulans had no beef with us before we attached ourselves to the Vulcans, and if we mind our own business, let the Vulcans and the Romulans settle their own affairs, I see no reason for the Romulans to keep attacking Earth."

"But don't we owe the Vulcans some loyalty?" said Katy.

"These Romulans are playing to win, Katy," said Osbourne, "and if we lose this war, I suspect they'll lob a few hundred atomic weapons onto Earth's surface, sending us back to the Stone Age, or the grave. Take your pick. Are we that indebted to the Vulcans, Katy?"

Katy paled at that answer, and said, "That would never happen, Congressman."

"Really?" said Osbourne. "We've got Romulan soldiers on Earth now, doing pretty much whatever the hell they want, Katy, and killing Humans in the process. You think people like that will play nice if they win this war? I don't."

* * *

Ayvok walked through Engineering after breakfast, a thermos of fresh coffee in his hand. Commander Tucker surely had coffee running through his veins, and if he did not see the need for coffee, the other engineers would gladly accept that coffee: they all lived off the stuff.

"Morning, Ayvok," said Trip as the Vulcan looked into his office. "Is that fresh coffee?"

"Yes," said Ayvok, handing Trip the thermos.

"Thanks," said Trip, yawning. "I need some java just about now."

Ayvok nodded, and said, "I've been told that your engineers finished their work on my phaser cannon batteries during the night, and I will take some readings soon, verify that all is up to spec."

"I've checked their work myself an hour ago," said Trip. "You're good to go, Ayvok."

"Very well," said Ayvok, trusting the commander's competence. "We won't be able to test fire them until we get out of spacedock, but I appreciate you taking the time to make the changes I requested."

"You're quite welcome," said Trip. "Lunch and a chess game at 1300 hours? I'm feeling strong today!"

"Looking forward to it," said Ayvok, and with that the Vulcan left Engineering to head for the Bridge.

* * *

"So," said T'Les, studying her daughter. "How are you, T'Pol?"

Mother and daughter sat on plump cushions, eating lunch off the long rectangular coffee table in the living room, their segmented copper trays holding everything needed for their meals: rice, two types of spiced legume curries, some grilled bluecap Risan mushrooms which tasted like white fish, some stir fried spinach, onion and potatoes, and between the two trays, a basket of soft flatbreads.

"I am well, mother. My work keeps me busy," said T'Pol, in order to forestall her mother's attempts to chide her daughter for not visiting more often.

"How much longer will your assignment on that Human ship continue, T'Pol?"

"I do not know, mother," said T'Pol, "but I find the work challenging, and interesting."

"Well, I suppose that's something," said T'Les, "but I wish you served aboard a Vulcan ship. You'd find it just as challenging, I'll wager."

"Yes," said T'Pol, and left it at that.

"And how is Commander Tucker?" said T'Les.

T'Pol froze at that, and only moments later said, "Why do you ask?"

"He's the only member of the crew you have made mention of repeatedly in every letter I get," said T'Les. "Well, him and Porthos. But from the sound of it, Commander Tucker is a most talented engineer, and something of a colleague."

"He was transferred off the Enterprise, and promoted to Executive Officer," said T'Pol. "Something of a final work assignment in order to prepare him for holding the rank of captain at some future time."

"I see," said T'Les. "Well, I wish him good fortune in his new assignment."

T'Pol merely nodded in agreement, scooping a mouthful of rice, and chasing that mouthful with the spicier of the legume curries.

"Do you miss him?" said T'Les.

"Transfers are part and parcel of the job, mother."

"That was not my question, T'Pol," said T'Les, looking meaningfully at T'Pol.

T'Pol sighed, for she'd never been good at hiding her feelings from her mother: the woman was too shrewd.

"Yes," said T'Pol, moments later. "Yes, I miss him."


	29. Chapter 29

— **Chapter 29 —**

* * *

Trip woke at 0620 hours feeling as if he'd run a marathon, rather than having slept the past six hours. Worst of all was the dream he'd just dreamt, in which he looked down on T'Pol, the Vulcan seated on the floor, legs folded to the side, head lowered and face concealed as she presumably gazed at the floor, and just as he'd drawn closer and knelt next to her, T'Pol raised her head and turned to face him… and her eyes were a glossy black, no white in them at all, and the left eye wept a scarlet tear.

Trip had started at that, started all the way out of his sleep, and mumbled, "Christ. Hell of a way to wake up!"

But wake he did, showering, shaving, dressing quickly, all in order to make the Mess Hall by 0700 for he had scheduled a working breakfast with Ayvok and T'Fel, and by the time Trip reached the Mess Hall the Vulcans were already there, seated at Trip's favored table. Trip made a quick run through the food line, selected a large espresso flavored protein shake, a cinnamon scone, and a candied pecan and maple scone.

"Good morning," said Trip, as he took a seat.

Ayvok nodded, and T'Fel said, "Good morning, Commander Tucker."

Foodie that he was, Trip checked out their breakfasts. T'Fel had chosen the expected fruit, yogurt and herbal tea, while Ayvok had chosen a black coffee and a large bearclaw donut, and even as Trip studied Ayvok's selections, that Vulcan studied Trip's, and each nodded to the other out of respect for the other man's good taste.

"We've received a large shipment of Vulcan hardware during nightwatch," said Trip. "The sensor hardware your people are sharing with us. Anyway, the equipment's not even unpacked yet, but within the next few hours, we'll begin prepping for installation."

Neither Vulcan said anything here, so Trip continued speaking.

"Anyway," said Trip, "you're both familiar with the operation of this sensor equipment, so once my people finish the installation, I need you to work with my crew in order to make sure we've got it calibrated properly."

"Certainly," said T'Fel, and Ayvok nodded his agreement, even as the Vulcan took a respectable bite from his bearclaw.

"I've spoken to the captain," said Trip, "and once we install these sensors, we're cruising through our solar system on impulse, allowing you both to fine tune the equipment and make some final adjustments, after which we'll have a chance to conduct some live fire exercises on a number of drones taking evasive actions at impulse and low warp speeds, in order to judge the efficiency of the upgrades we've made to the phaser cannon batteries, as well as verify that the targeting hardware and software are working perfectly."

"Excellent," said Ayvok. "Those exercises will provide us with valuable feedback, Commander Tucker."

"I agree," said Trip, and then slid a PADD unit out to each of the Vulcans. "The precise sensor units we've received, user's manuals, recommended settings data sheets, power requirements, etc… Look it all over, let's make it a smooth installation. We've got three weeks to go before our launch date, and I want to be ready for action, right on schedule. If you have any questions, if you have some concerns, get with me as soon as possible. Don't wait."

T'Fel nodded and Ayvok answered in the affirmative, and with that, breakfast was over, and they went about their own business.

* * *

"When will I see you again?" said T'Les, seated on T'Pol's bed and glancing at her daughter, for the Enterprise was about to head for Tellar, along with a number of diplomats.

"I can not say, mother," said T'Pol, packing her clothes in her carry bag.

"Can you transfer to a Vulcan ship?" said T'Les. "Your people need you now, T'Pol."

"The Humans have thrown their lot in with us mother," said T'Pol. "They've been attacked and killed for their association with us. Whether I serve aboard a Vulcan ship, or the Enterprise, my service accomplishes the same purpose and serves both our peoples."

"I suppose that you are right," said T'Les with a sigh, truly concerned about T'Pol. "Where to now?"

"The Andorian Emperor suggested we try to bring a few more planets into this little alliance of ours, mother," said T'Pol. "Even on its face it seems a worthwhile effort, but in any case, we can not afford to ignore the Emperor's wishes. You know Andorians. Prideful and unpredictable as they are, they're also warlike and aggressive, and we need to bind them to our side, lest the Romulans approach them, and offer the Andorians an alliance - such an alliance would spell disaster for Vulcan, mother."

"True enough," said T'Les. "Why are the Andorians even willing to seriously consider joining us? Given the bad blood between us, I mean."

"I think it has something to do with the Humans, mother," said T'Pol. "They intrigue the Andorians, and perhaps the Andorian Emperor sees some merit to this proposed federation. Certainly they would never join this alliance for our sake."

"The Humans," said T'Les, thoughtfully. "What about the Humans interests the Andorian Emperor?"

"I do not know, mother."

"Speculate."

T'Pol gave the matter consideration for a few moments, then said, "Although Andorians are more warlike than the Humans, I think they see Humans as kindred spirits to some degree. Humans are almost as emotional as the Andorians themselves, capable enough to rise from the ashes their planet had become, possessed of a strong exploratory drive and willing to fight for what's theirs, if not as quick to embrace war as the Andorians themselves, but close enough."

"And so?" said T'Les.

"And so I suspect that the Emperor sees this alliance as a bulwark against the Klingons," said T'Pol.

T'Les nodded her head in understanding. The Klingons were the 800 pound gorilla of this sector of space, and though they were content with the size of their empire and its borders, for now, the possibility that they might wish to expand their empire at a future time was a concern for every species in this sector.

"Then the Emperor is wise," said T'Les. "What do you estimate the chances that this alliance will come about?"

"I do not have sufficient data to make that determination, mother," said T'Pol.

T'Les sat quietly for minute or so, then said, "Why have the Romulans not attacked us en masse yet?"

"I have no idea mother, but they are a cunning and calculating people," said T'Pol. "They have their reasons."

T'Les nodded, and said, "It is so odd."

"What is that, mother?" said T'Pol, when T'Les did not finish her thought.

"Watching these Romulans in action, is like taking a trip back in time, to what we used to be," said T'Les.

"Yes, I suppose it is just that," said T'Pol. "As things stand, we did well to follow Surak from that morass of dark passions."

T'Les whispered her agreement with T'Pol's sentiments, then her sharp hearing caught the whistle of the hire-car which they'd called to take T'Pol to the shuttle-port where the Enterprise's shuttle would land to pick up T'Pol.

"T'Pol," said T'Les.

"I heard it, mother," said T'Pol, tossing her flight bag over her shoulder. "I will return at the earliest opportunity, mother."

"Do so," said T'Les, and quite uncharacteristically, T'Les hugged her daughter tightly.

* * *

Captain Hernandez stepped on the Bridge to see that the place was in a state of organized chaos. The Science, Tactical and Helm stations were all ripped open, parts strewn all over the place, and she saw Trip working on the Science station, while Sattari was working on Tactical, so Erika stepped over to Science.

"How are things coming along, Commander Tucker?" said the captain.

"We'll be done here in a matter of hours, Captain," said Trip.

"No problems?" said the captain.

"None," said Trip.

"So why did you rip up the Helm, Tactical and Science station?" said Erika.

"The sensor feed is split between Science and Tactical," said Trip, "and they both share their feed with Helm, and they can each also share their feed with the other. Nice fail-safe design. Very elegant hardware, Captain."

"I see," said the captain. "All right, carry on, and see me in the Ready Room when you're finished."

"Yes, Captain," said Trip.

He turned back to his work, though in truth he was distracted by his proximity with T'Fel, for he had a direct line of sight to her station. Contrary to T'Pol's skintight coverall uniforms, T'Fel favored loose fitting tops brought together at the waist with a wide belt, and pants which fit closely about the hips and than flared out from the knee down into something of a bell-bottom, which made for a cute and feminine look, and her style of clothing went well with the Vulcan's long hair which fell to her lower back if loose…

Ugh! thought Trip. I don't want to notice such things about T'Fel. Not after T'Pol.

Yet Trip's eyes paid no heed to his thoughts, and they wandered back to the Vulcan of their own accord… worse yet, T'Fel must have sensed Trip's attention at one point, for she looked at the XO and the two locked eyes. Here T'Pol would have merely given Trip a cool glance, perhaps a raised brow, but T'Fel was younger and thus nowhere as poised, or perhaps it was just that her personality differed from T'Pol's, for T'Fel's eyes widened even as she blushed, and then the moment passed when the Comm officer called out T'Fel's name, yet despite himself Trip smiled, amused by that exchange.

* * *

"NYPD," said the receptionist. "How may I direct your call?"

"I've just witnessed a murder," said a woman's voice. "A group of Vulcans just killed a Human, but I don't think they're Vulcans, you know. I think they're Romulans."

"I will make the proper connection, ma'am," said the receptionist. "What is your name?"

"I don't want to say my name over this connection," said the woman. "The last thing I need is to have it leaked over the airwaves, and have these Romulans come looking for me."

"Ma'am, I can assure you, your name will be held confidentially," said the receptionist.

"No way," said the woman. "Either put me on the line with someone in authority, or I'm hanging up."

"Please hold," said the receptionist, immediately forwarding the call to the Combined Rapid Response Teams HQ, a combined taskforce of local and federal law enforcement officers, and four squads of soldiers with specialized anti-terrorist training.

Forty minutes later, some two hundred Humans and three Vulcan advisers surrounded the proper building in the Port Newark–Elizabeth Marine Terminal, a major component of the Port of New York and New Jersey, and the principal container ship facility for goods entering and leaving New York metropolitan area and the northeastern quadrant of North America, and located just across I-95 from the Newark Liberty International Airport. It was to this building, which the female informant had directed these people and it was upon this building that the soldiers and their V'Shar advisers closed, while the law enforcement officers secured the area in order to make certain that none of the suspects escaped.

Just then, the female caller which had drawn these people here, pressed a button which detonated a large matter-antimatter bomb. The flash and the shockwave was considerable, even from the safety of her vantage point, as some two miles of the marine terminal and the entire airport was essentially wiped out in the blink of an eye.

"Tellej asel'e, Tirelle," said Zvoret, leader of the Imperial Shrike team which had infiltrated the marine terminal in order to place the bomb at the optimum location.

"Thanks," said Tirelle in English, in response to the Shrike's praise for luring these Humans here. "This was a good night's work, Zvoret."

* * *

By the time Trip finished up his work and entered the captain's Ready Room, Erika was watching the aftermath of the Romulan attack on the news-feeds.

"What happened?" said Trip, looking at what looked to be a mile or two of devastation.

"Romulan attack," said Erika, turning to face Trip, her face somber. "They hit us again, just now."

"How many?" said Trip, meaning how many casualties.

"Don't know yet," said Erika. "Must be thousands, but we won't know for days, or weeks."

Trip studied the buildings still left standing in the marine terminal, as well as the airport terminal buildings, with an engineer's eyes.

"They'll find survivors in the airport terminal building," said Trip. "That's solid construction, so there will be survivors there, except for those close to the plate glass windows.

"Yes," said Erika, the explosion blasted through the windows."

"It's not just the explosion, Captain," said Trip. "The shockwave will turn those shattered windows into flying shrapnel that will rip flesh to shreds. Anyone within a hundred feet or so of those large windows is either dead or badly wounded."

"Oh, God," said Erika.

Just then the captain's comm unit beeped, and the Comm officer reached out to the captain to say, "Captain, you have a call from HQ."

"Put it through," said Erika, then looked at Trip, hard eyed. "You just make sure this ship is combat ready in short order, XO."

"Aye, Captain," said Trip, and took his leave.

* * *

"Enter," said Archer, who was making a night of it in his Ready Room, monitoring developments in the latest Romulan attack, while catching up on tons of paperwork he'd neglected the past few weeks.

"Captain," said T'Pol, glancing briefly at the video monitor, understanding Archer's need to monitor the situation.

"Take a seat," said Archer. "What's on your mind T'Pol?"

"We've taken the last of the diplomats back on board, Captain," said T'Pol. "We can set course for Tellar on your command."

"An hour or so either way won't make a difference," said Archer. "Let them get settled in."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "We should go over Tellarite etiquette and protocol forms, Captain."

"Why?" said Archer. "That's why we have diplomats aboard."

"Even so," said T'Pol. "Your duties will require you to interact with Tellarites sooner or later, as I do not believe that we will tie things up in just this one trip to Tellar. We will have to make several trips at least. In any case, there is not harm in you being conversant with Tellarite behavior and expectations."

"Ok. You're right, T'Pol," said Archer, then buzzed the captain's steward.

"Yes, Captain," said Ensign Jenkins.

"I need a thermos of hot coffee, a thermos of hot Ceylon tea, and two cups."

"Yes, Captain," said Jenkins.

"All right, T'Pol," said Archer, privately relieved to have an excuse to shove the paperwork aside. "Instruct me on Tellarite etiquette."


	30. Chapter 30

— **Chapter 30 —**

* * *

At long last, some two months after Trip had first boarded the Columbia, that ship left spacedock right on schedule for a ten day shakeout cruise with the new Chief Engineer, Shan Li, now aboard the Enterprise and in charge of Engineering, which freed Trip up to take up the responsibilities of his new position as the Columbia's Executive Officer, second in the chain of command.

It was a necessary learning period for all, and at the end of it the Columbia was declared fit for duty, and dispatched to Risa with three Human diplomats and one Vulcan, in Captain Hernandez's care. Their purpose was to establish formal diplomatic relations between Risa and Earth, and at least open discussions of ties closer than mere formality, hopefully including mutual support in war and peace.

Meanwhile, in service to that mission of building an alliance, a federation of united planets if you will, the Enterprise headed for Tellar once more, and once their business there was concluded, their itinerary would see the Enterprise set course for Denobula, to work for the achievement of that same end.

* * *

T'Les stepped out of the hire car which had brought her to her destination, an exclusive neighborhood of ShiKahr, Vulcan's capital city. She'd been here before many times through the years, invited here along with T'Pol the first time some eight years ago, for her daughter's mentor wished to meet the mother, and the mother wished to meet the mentor, but this was the first time she'd had to pass through a cordon of guards and a brief interrogation before being allowed to pass through, even though she was an expected guest. Not that T'Les minded these precautions: she understood the need for them, and she was grateful that the government was taking Soval safety seriously, for Soval was a friend.

T'Les was quickly cleared by Soval's guards, after which she was escorted to the front door of the elegant, though restrained, post-Reformation style mansion of Vulcan design, and once there T'Les was handed off to another guard, a female this time.

"This way, T'Les," said the guard, leading her through the house, to the library on the second floor of the house, and indicated that T'Les should go inside.

"T'Les," said Soval as the woman entered the room. "It is good to see you."

"I feel the same, Soval," said T'Les.

"Please, sit," said Soval. "I apologize for hosting you in the library, but I find it easier to sit in these straight backed chairs for now."

"It is a perfectly lovely room, Soval," said T'Les, taking a seat across the table from Soval.

Just then V'litte, one of Soval's servants entered the room, with a pot of tea, two cups, and two plates with honey cake, and T'Les nodded agreeably: she'd known the older woman as long as she'd known Soval.

"How are you, V'litte?" said T'Les.

"Getting older, T'Les," said V'litte, "but you look just the same. Stop by the kitchen before you leave, I have some honey cake for you to take home, I know you like it."

"I do," said T'Les. "Thank you, V'litte."

Once V'litte had left the room, T'Les poured tea for them both, and said, "How is your rehabilitation coming, Soval?"

"Slowly but surely, T'Les, slowly but surely. I was touched that you visited me so often while in hospital," said Soval. "Now, tell me what's new in your life?"

They spent the next two hours going back and forth about various events in each other's lives, before T'Les charted a new course in their conversation.

"You are acquainted with the crew of the Enterprise," said T'Les, "the ship on which my daughter serves, no?"

"To a limited degree, T'Les," said Soval, "I have seen the officers' service records, and I have had some contact with the senior command crew."

"Would you tell me what you know about Commander Tucker, Soval?"

"That is an unexpected line of inquiry, T'Les," said Soval. "Why the curiosity?"

"I heard that Commander Tucker was on the Tu'lus when she was attacked, and heard that he served the ship well enough to earn one of Levok's Tears," said T'Les. "T'Pol has mentioned the commander's name as well, and I would like to learn more of that man in particular, and the kind of people my daughter works with aboard the Enterprise."

"Oh, I see," said Soval, now understanding T'Les' curiosity, and so the ambassador recounted all that he knew of Trip in fairly short order.

"He sounds like a fine man," said T'Les.

"I find him much more agreeable than his former captain, Archer," said Soval. "But that is another story. Hopefully the commander finds his service with Captain Hernandez of the Columbia agreeable."

T'Les had already seen the video of the man taking charge aboard the Tu'lus, and found him agreeably attractive and exotic, and so T'Pol's attraction to the man was understandable: that such an attraction existed was clear to T'Les, for she could read her daughter like a book. None of that meant that a match between T'Pol and this man was logical, or desirable. Still, it was good to know that the man had some merits.

* * *

"What is your business here, sir?" said the Vulcan guard, looking out at a Human through the embassy's wrought iron gate.

"I have a delivery for Sek," said the man. "Tell him it's from Harris."

"What type of delivery?" said the guard.

The man couldn't really blame the guard for being cautious, but he said, "Listen, tell Sek that I'm here, and tell him I have something for him from Harris, or I'm leaving, and if I do that Sek will have your ass."

The guard did as instructed now, realizing that this Human had nothing more to say to him, and the guard dared not send the man on his way: no one knew precisely what Sek did with his time, but the guards knew that Sek was with the V'Shar, and that was enough.

Minutes later Sek came to the gate and recognized the man from a previous meeting with Harris, so Sek quickly accepted the data chip which the man held out for him, after which the nondescript man simply turned and walked away from the Vulcan Embassy, while Sek returned to his office to view the contents of the data chip: video files, text files, charts, maps, along with a brief text note from Harris.

Sek studied the data on the chip and then considered the information he'd just viewed, in full agreement with Harris' conclusion. The only reason that the Romulans had not swept across this sector of space yet was the Klingons.

The Romulan and Klingon empires shared a common border, and having noted the increased ship and troop movements by the Romulans, the Klingons had greatly reinforced that shared border, assuming that the Romulans meant to invade the Klingon empire. Meanwhile, the Romulans couldn't move their troops out of the Romulan Star Empire and into the Vulcan sector, lest they leave their empire unguarded and ripe for the picking in case the Klingon forces, massed on the borders, should sweep across that border and into the Romulan Star Empire as soon as the Romulan forces departed.

How long this state of things would last was uncertain. Either the Romulans would come to an agreement with the Klingons, which would free the Romulan war machine to invade the Human and Vulcan sectors of space, or the Romulans would keep up the current battle of attrition and terror going until the situation with the Klingons was resolved. Neither prospect was agreeable. Worst of all was that possibility that the Romulans might induce the Klingons to partner up into an invasion of this sector of space, and enlarge both their empires in the process. That would be a nightmare!

Still, thought Sek, how the hell are these Humans getting data of this quality?

Reports, videos, photos, troop movements, star maps, etc… The typical way for the V'Shar to answer that question would be to attempt to smoke out this source, but Vulcan could not afford to make any missteps with the Humans… not now. Diplomats would have to convince Humans to share this source, which meant concessions, and that's if Section 31 was even open to such bribery. They might consider their source of information to be more valuable than any number of concessions... only time would tell.

Well, that's something for another day, thought Sek, and with that the Vulcan encrypted the data which he'd just received, then transmitted it to the Vulcan cruiser Sifal, in Earth's orbit, and the Sifal immediately transmitted Sek's message to V'Shar's HQ on Vulcan.

* * *

Trip entered the gym with a need to blow off some steam, and as expected at this late hour he found it largely empty, save for a couple of female crewmen drinking protein shakes while laughing about something. The fact that the laughter ended the moment he'd entered the room meant they were making fun of an officer. Fair enough, so far as Trip was concerned: he'd done the same often enough while a crewman.

Soon afterwards the women left the gym in pursuit of other amusements, and Trip had the room to himself for ten minutes or so to warm up a bit, and just then Ayvok walked into the gym. Each man took note of each other with a slight nod, and then Trip began working the heavy bag with both punches and kicks, while Ayvok began jogging on the treadmill.

"You have good technique, Trip," said Ayvok, having drifted Trip's way ten minutes later, and using Commander Tucker's nickname as they were private now. "StarFleet's training seems quite adequate."

"Thanks, Ayvok," said Trip, rocking the bag, "but I've actually trained long before StarFleet. Since I was a teen."

"Oh?" said Ayvok.

"Yeah," said Trip. "My father's job took us overseas for much of my childhood, and part of that was in Asia. We spent seven years in Thailand, where I trained in muay thai the entire time, because I got tired of getting my ass kicked by Thai kids. After that, we spent the next three years in Japan, where I studied jujutsu."

"Interesting," said Ayvok. "Perhaps you'd like to spar a bit?"

"Sure," said Trip. "Let's go."

"Heavy, or light?" said Ayvok.

"Let's go heavy," said Trip. "If we have to fight for our lives against these Romulans, we should train realistically."

"Agreed," said Ayvok.

The two had just taken the mats when T'Fel entered the gym, and she mounted one of the stationary bicycles facing the video monitor, and the mirrored wall. A Human movie was playing on the monitor, but T'Fel could not have possibly cared less about the movie, for though her back was turned towards the men, the mirrored wall provided a view of them both as they went about donning an outfit that bore a striking resemblance to an ancient Greek hoplite's equipment, but in leather. Thin, padded greaves to protect the lower leg, bracers protected the entire forearm, thin gloves which were suited for both striking and grappling, torso armor to protect the body, and a leather helmet which protected the skull, jaw and nose, all of which meant that combatants could largely go full out, save for attacking the eyes, knees, or elbow joints, injury to which would sideline a crewmen for too long.

T'Fel had never seen Commander Tucker fight, but she suspected that the man would be in serious trouble. Ayvok was well trained, cunning, patient and relentless, and he also held a strength advantage over the Human as a function of his species, as well as the fact that he'd grown up on a planet with a somewhat higher gravity than Earth, and those two factors combined generally meant that a Human's strength was inferior to a Vulcan's strength.

Fully outfitted now, the men closed distance, touched gloves, then spread out once more, adjusting their distance in relation to each other, which was the beginning of a cat and mouse game, during which each man tested the other's reaction time, instinctual predilections and responses when pressed hard, as well as their mental focus. The clash, when it came, was controlled, but intense.

Ayvok rushed the Human, expecting Trip to sidestep. Instead Trip struck Ayvok with a savage horizontal knee strike, the khao tat, which took the wind out Ayvok even as the Vulcan's rush tossed Trip backwards and off his feet, though the man rolled backwards and recovered his feet in short order. Ayvok had followed Trip closely, aiming a side kick at the man, a kick which barely missed when Trip sidestepped, after which Trip brought his forearm down on Ayvok's thigh, hoping to numb the Vulcans leg… No such luck as that leg felt just barely a touch softer than wood even with padded armor, and the two combatants adjusted their distance once more, in preparation for the next clash.

T'Fel had watched that first passage with interest, and she judged it essentially a draw. Commander Tucker had done better than expected. They closed again and it seemed to T'Fel that Commander Tucker had a preference for the counter-attack, for the man once again waited for Ayvok to attack first, and when the Vulcan did just that with a jab at the commander's face, the man blended with the Vulcan's attack, trapped Ayvok's arm with both hands and instantly brought his left leg up in a diagonal knee strike to Ayvok's kidneys, which brought a grunt from Ayvok even as the Vulcan freed his arm with a violent motion, and then immediately afterwards followed that action with a front kick to the commander's stomach. Though the commander had managed to retain his feet, that kick had a noticeable effect on the man, and Trip stepped back, wincing. Ayvok advanced on Commander Tucker once more in order to capitalize on his attack, and Commander Tucker delivered a savage low kick to the side of Ayvok's leg which made the Vulcan stumble and nearly fall, and then Commander Tucker followed it up with another kick to Ayvok's torso, which made the Vulcan pull back and regroup, and the two circled each other cautiously once again.

Just then, the PA system announced, "Commander Tucker to the captain's Ready Room."

The two combatants pulled back, and Trip smiled as he removed his protective helmet.

"You had me on the ropes, Ayvok," said Trip.

"I am not convinced that is true," said Ayvok.

"We need a rematch," said Trip.

"Definitely," said Ayvok, and with that Trip took his leave.

"Commander Tucker did better than expected," said T'Fel a few moments later, for she'd approached Ayvok once Commander Tucker had left the room.

"Oh, yes," said Ayvok. "His knee strikes were effective, his kicks more so. I did not eat any punches, but I suspect he packs a strong punch as well."

"Interesting," said T'Fel. "I did not think a Human would have a chance against one of us."

"The strength disparity between our two species is an advantage for us, T'Fel," said Ayvok, "but skill can often substitute for strength, and it would be a mistake to underestimate any opponent. In any case, Commander Tucker is unusually fit specimen of his species, easily matching the average Vulcan, and if he doesn't match my own strength, he comes reasonably close. I certainly would not underestimate the man, T'Fel."

"I will keep that in mind, SubCommander," said T'Fel.


	31. Chapter 31

— **Chapter 31 —**

* * *

It was while the Enterprise was on course for Tellar, that trouble found the ship.

"Captain," said Lt-Commander Reed. "I have possible Romulan ship signs."

T'Pol immediately brought up the sensor feed at the Science Station, and began scouring the data for herself.

"Polarize the hull," said Archer, wishing they'd had the time to outfit the Enterprise with shield emitters at the conclusion of the Vulcan wargames, as originally planned. "Make weapons hot."

"Yes, Captain," said Reed.

"T'Pol?" said Archer.

"Nothing definitive, Captain," said T'Pol.

"You think it's just a fluke?" said Archer. "Some random data picked up by the sensors and misinterpreted by the computer?"

"I can not say just yet," said T'Pol, "but the danger is too great for us to relax our vigilance."

"We're well inside Tellarite space," said Archer. "Any Tellarite patrol boats or warships in the area?"

"I have three Tellarite warp signatures," said T'Pol, "but they are quite a ways off. Too far to be of help to us in this situation."

"We'll try anyway," said Archer. "Comm, reach out to those ships and ask for their assistance if they're military vessels."

"Yes, Captain," said Hoshi.

Hoshi began broadcasting her appeals for help while Reed and T'Pol monitored the sensor readings closely, and just then Reed looked up briefly at T'Pol, and she nodded her head in agreement with the Lt-Commander's unspoken question.

"Two anomalies just showed up on our sensors, if only briefly," said Reed. "I estimate the probability that we are being stalked by Romulan ships to be quite high, Captain."

"We'll have to run for it," said Archer. "Helm, take us towards Tellar at best speed. If we're being followed by cloaked ships, perhaps they'll have a harder time staying cloaked at Warp 5."

Reed nodded, agreeing with the captain's supposition, even as Ensign Mayweather placed the ship on course for Tellar at Warp 5.

"We have Warp 5, Captain," said Ensign Mayweather.

Archer pressed a button on his captain's chair and reached Engineering.

"Yes, Captain," said Dillard, Trip's hand-chosen replacement.

"I need every bit of speed you can coax out of those engines, Chief," said Archer.

"Right, Captain," said Dillard, and a minute later Mayweather announced that they were up to speed Warp 5.2 and Archer nodded in satisfaction: not as good as Trip, but close.

Moments later, T'Pol looked up at Archer, the movement of her head drawing the man's attention.

"We are indeed being pursued by two cloaked ships, Captain," said T'Pol, "but the efficacy of their cloaking devices is subpar. I have them blinking in and out on my sensor feed, and Tactical should now be able to bring our weapons to bear on those ships."

"Lock weapons on them as a warning," said Archer looking at Reed, "but don't fire. We don't know for certain that they're Romulans, though I'll grant you that's most likely the case here."

"I can't get a lock on them, Captain," said Reed.

"So phaser fire is useless?" said Archer.

"No, Captain," said Reed. "I can target those ships manually and stand a fair chance of hitting them, but I suggest we launch photon torpedoes instead, with a wide spread of the energetic payload. The Romulans will take some damage in that scenario unless they take evasive maneuvers, and evasive maneuvers will cost them some speed, maybe enough to shake them off our tail."

"In that case," said Archer, "let's—"

The captain never finished his thought, for just then, disruptor fire raked the Enterprise, as the Romulans opened fire on the Human ship, despite the fact that the energy requirements for their attacks mandated the dispersal of their cloaking fields.

* * *

The Columbia had just assumed orbit around Risa a few hours earlier, and the diplomats which the ship had carried here had already engaged their Risan counterparts in a bid to open diplomatic relations, as well as sound them out on the possibility of joining the fledgling federation now being discussed earnestly.

During the course of these negotiations the Columbia's crew was rotated to the planet below in order to allow them all a bit of recreation and exposure to Risan culture, and it was during the second rotation to Risa that T'Fel shuttled down with a batch of the Columbia's crewmen to the same tropical resort town to which they'd all been restricted by Captain Hernandez's orders.

Once on Risa, T'Fel's first stop was a seashore restaurant built on a short pier which extended a hundred feet into the bay, and from that scenic perch, T'Fel watched the surfers frolick in Risa's warm waters... and there he was! Commander Tucker, frolicking like a seal in Risa's wild surf along with the Risans, and T'Fel's heart raced each time a huge wave engulfed the man, for as the scion of a desert planet such sports seemed illogically reckless.

Nevertheless, the XO was quite competent on the water, until a Risan female crossed his path during a surfing run, tossing them both in the water, and T'Fel tensed, fearing the worst, but both surfers popped up almost immediately. However, the Risan's surfboard had slipped her ankle leash, and at that Commander Tucker shared his board with the woman, and the two paddled to shore. Once safely on the beach they spoke a bit, they laughed, and eventually moved off after the Risan pointed to some of the buildings lining the seashore, clearly rendering some sort of invitation to the XO.

As she had nowhere else to be, T'Fel enjoyed a leisurely meal, graciously turning down a few offers of companionship from the numerous males populating this restaurant, although most species here were familiar with Vulcans and were well aware of the fact that statistically speaking, few Vulcan females would entertain offers of casual sex with strangers. That's not to say none tried. Some half dozen males in various states of intoxication approached the exotic beauty, thoroughly convinced that they'd charm her in no time, and if they all failed, well, they were still charmed by T'Fel's thoroughly polite and ever so delicate rejections, so much so that one of the Vulcan's rejected suitors even picked up T'Fel's tab without her knowledge.

Her hunger sated by a delicate Risan risotto and a beautiful salad made of what seemed to be a half dozen different types of flower petals, T'Fel spent the next four hours at a large marine park where the Risans housed and exhibited hundreds of sea mammals and thousands of fish, eels and all other manner of assorted sea life, and it was there that T'Fel literally bumped into Crewmen Nelly Martinez and Gina Marks.

After another hour of that scene, the two crewmen persuaded T'Fel to accompany them to a local club for a few drinks, before returning to the Columbia. Although such pursuits were not typically Vulcan, T'Fel chose to accompany the women there, meaning to serve as a protector for the two crewmen, if they should drink excessively... and it was there that T'Fel saw Commander Tucker once more, when Crewman Martinez pointed him out.

"Hey, over there!" said Nelly, speaking loudly to be heard over the sound of the music, and directing Crewman Marks's attention, as well as T'Fel's, to the dance floor. "Is that who I think it is?"

Crewman Marks was nearsighted, and wasn't wearing her glasses for she'd forgotten them back on the ship, but T'Fel had perfect vision and she saw Commander Tucker dancing with the Risan surfer he'd met earlier that day, though they'd taken the time to change into something more modest than Risan beachwear… though not by much in the Risan's case, for her dress was slit high up her thighs, it's neckline plunged all the way to the woman's belly button, and the back on the dress was practically non-existent. Charming.

"What are you guys looking at?" said Gina, straining to see.

"We're looking at the XO dry humping a Risan babe on the dance floor," said Nelly, "and he's doing it, oh so well!"

"You're kidding me!" said Gina. "T'Fel?"

"Crewman Martinez speaks the truth," said T'Fel. "Commander Tucker is dirty dancing like a gigolo."

T'Fel watched the XO dance with a single-minded focus now, privately approving of Commander Tucker's sinuous moves as he all but copulated with the Risan on the dance floor, and despite the inappropriate nature of the dance, to Vulcan eyes at least, T'Fel could not avert her gaze.

"Oh, man!" said Gina. "I can't see shit!"

"Relax, girl," said Nelly, capturing a video of the XO's mating dance with her PADD unit. "I got this on video for you to enjoy later, along with every other female on the Columbia."

"Oh, yeah!" said Gina. "I've got to see that video as soon as we get back aboard the Columbia!"

T'Fel was torn between ordering Crewman Martinez to stop recording the XO… and asking for a copy of the video. Desire trumped propriety in this case, as T'Fel also desired a copy of that video, and so she kept her silence even as her eyes lingered on the dancing couple, and T'Fel noted the Risan's overt sexuality, her great figure eagerly flaunted in that revealing dress, the woman's full lips, the lovely oval face, her glossy black eyes and long hair, her graceful motions…

And then T'Fel turned her attention to the XO and took note of Commander Tucker's ice-blue eyes, fine features and a winning smile she'd seen little of since the man had boarded the Columbia… and she noted the way he pressed the Risan's body with his own, the way his hands roamed the Risan's body with complete assurance, noted also the man's grace, which easily matched the Risan's…

But then she'd already noted that grace when she'd seen Commander Tucker clashing with Ayvok during their bout of unarmed combat... and with a start, T'Fel realized that she was attracted to the XO - he'd been so closed off with her until recently, but seeing him like this, alive and vibrant, passionately involved in this dance, and in full control of his own body, and that of his partner… T'Fel blushed strongly at the thoughts which ran through her mind just then.

* * *

"Captain," said T'Pol, bracing herself as the Enterprise rocked once more under the force of the Romulan attack.

They'd been on the run from the Romulan ships for the past two hours, and the damage exchanged between the ships seemed to have been about even, as the Enterprise had successfully lobbed some photon torpedoes back at the pursuing ships, and one of the Romulan ships had been struck twice, and yet it kept coming. That either said that Romulan ships were superbly built, or else said that the Romulans had been merely lucky that no critical systems were damaged by the Enterprise's torpedoes. No way to tell which was which.

"Yes, T'Pol?" said Archer.

The Vulcan placed a transparent overlay over the current view on the Enterprise's main video monitor, "I suggest we alter course and enter the Sigma 9 cloud nebula."

"Helm," said Archer, understanding T'Pol's intent even as he studied the vast boundaries of the cloud nebula.

"Yes, Captain," said Ensign Mayweather.

...and with that, the race was on, as the Enterprise made way for the huge cloud nebula at best speed in order to lose the Romulans within the ionized clouds of hydrogen and helium which would provide both, visual concealment as well as a charged atmosphere which would confound Romulan sensors.

The Romulans understood the maneuver, and raced to prevent the Enterprise from reaching Sigma 9, and safety. As things stood though, the Enterprise was safely in the lead, and the Romulans must have realize that fact as well, for they reduced all non-critical systems so that that power might be channeled into the warp engine matrix, and the result of those actions was to give the Romulans the power to inch a bit closer to the Enterprise.

"Tactical," said Archer, looking at Lt-Commander Reed.

"They've largely avoided the effects of our last few torpedo salvos," said Reed, "though they've had to detour outside the torpedoe's blast radius, so we've put some space between us, Captain. We should be all right."

Just then the Romulans fired again, and though the Ensign Mayweather's evasive actions spared them from major damage, they took several hits.

"The contents of a dozen compartments were just vented into space, Captain," said T'Pol. "Ship's Operations crews are moving to contain the damage. I can not yet determine our casualties, if any."

Archer nodded, and said, "How long till we make the nebula, Ensign Mayweather?"

"Twenty-one minutes, sir," said Travis, and the next twenty-one minutes were painfully tense, but the Enterprise survived to reach Sigma 9 solely due to the skill of the ship's Helm and Tactical officers.

Once within the nebula, the Enterprise lost it's pursuers in short order, traveling some four light years through the nebula in random patterns laid out by Archer, before finally leaving the nebula to return to its original course for Tellar. The tab for this little encounter with the Romulans stood at some twenty-six casualties and five fatalities, yet all in all, it could have been much worse, for had Archer chosen to fight the Romulans, the Enterprise would surely have been lost.


	32. Chapter 32

— **Chapter 32 —**

* * *

At long last, the Enterprise reached Tellar some four days behind schedule, all for having detoured in order to avoid the Romulan hunters, but the Tellarite response was gratifying, for as soon as the Enterprise reached Tellar she was directed to dock at Tellar's premiere spacedock facility, where hundreds of Tellarite engineers swarmed the ship from within and without, cutting out twisted metal and replacing it with new, rebuilding breached compartments and such, 'till all was as before the Romulan attack, so far as the ship was concerned. Better yet, the Tellarites installed shield emitters into the Enterprise's hull as a courtesy, for it shamed Tellar that invited guests were set upon and nearly destroyed in Tellarite space by these Romulans.

As an additional bonus the diplomatic envoy's job became much easier, for an outraged Tellarite Senate threw its lot in with the Humans, Vulcans and Andorians, and affirmed its desire to participate in this fledgling Federation, being so earnestly discussed. Oh, the Articles of Federation would not be signed until later this year, for they were not even drafted yet, but what they had now was enough for a working agreement. All this because the Romulans were unaware that for Tellarites, hospitality to strangers was paramount, and an attack upon invited guests in Tellarite space was an attack upon Tellar itself.

* * *

Squadron AC12, composed of three Andorian combat cruisers and eight light cruisers, had just completed a patrol of the northern borders of Andorian space, destroying a half dozen Orion ships in the process, as the Emperor's orders were clear where the Orions were concerned: eradicate. The Guards had made a sport of it too, boarding two Orion ships and killing every Orion on board in a series of short, brutal clashes, while they simply blasted the third Orion ship to hell with reckless abandon... as for the last three, AC12 took out the Orion ship's engines and set them on a collision course for a nearby sun. This was typically the way in which the Imperial Guards dealt with Orions, and such a joyful ruthlessness assured that while most other species had to deal with the never ending depredations which the Orions brought with them as a matter of course, Andorian space was safe and orderly.

Just now, AC12 was making a roundabout patrol on their way back to Andoria and cutting deeply into Vulcan space, as the Andorians were testing their ability to freely traverse Vulcan space as a result of this agreement which the Humans had fostered between the two species, and it was on this sojourn through Vulcan space that the U'lutorr's sensors picked up something unusual.

"Contact the Kumari," said Berget, the U'lutorr's commander, for his ship ranged far ahead of the rest of AC12 as a scout..

A few moments later, Thy'lek Shran, commander of the Kumari and the leader of this squadron, appeared on the U'lutorr's video monitor, and said, "Yes, Berget. What is it?"

"I have two ship signatures, Commander," said Berget. "One Vulcan, one Romulan. Sensors say they're both in distress. No response from the Vulcans."

"Relay those coordinates to the rest of the squadron," said Shran, and moments later that data was available to Shran. "Hold position until we pass by, then fall in with us."

"Yes, Commander," said Bergen.

Two hours later, the bulk of AC12 passed the U'lutorr on the way to the location of those two damaged ships, and the U'lutorr fell into formation as ordered previously. Some seven hours later, AC12 dropped out of warp into a nondescript brown dwarf system boasting a single planet it it's orbit, and it was around this planet that a most curious sight greeted the Andorians.

Two ships, caught in the planet's gravitational pull, both visibly damaged: one a Vulcan light cruiser, the other a Romulan Bird of Prey.

Shran looked at Lieutenant Talas, the Kumari's Tactical officer.

"The Vulcans are done, Commander," said Talas, understanding her commander's look. "I have thirty-seven life signs, spread throughout the ship, but the ship's warp field has collapsed and the impulse engines are fading even as we speak. Life support is spotty, and I imagine that it will fail soon."

Shran turned to the Comm officer, and with a few terse commands he dispatched two of the ships under his command to evacuate the Vulcans from the dying ship.

That done, Shran looked at Talas, and said, "Continue, Talas."

"The Romulan ship is faring somewhat better," said Talas. "I have fifty-six life signs, and they're attempting to restart their engines. Their power signature is slowly gaining strength. At this rate, I expect they'll have their warp engines back to nominal condition in nine hours, or so."

"No, they won't," said Shran, a predatory grin on his face.

Moments later, the Kumari blasted the Bird-of-Prey's Bridge, killing everyone serving that post, after which the Imperial Guards swept through the Romulan ship wounding and captured five Romulans: the rest of the Romulans fought to the death.

* * *

T'Pol was terrified. She hung over the edge of a bottomless ravine, looking up at Commander Tucker, for the man held her left wrist in his hand, as he knelt with one knee on the ground, holding her effortlessly at arm's length as he studied her intently, his piercing blue eyes locked with T'Pol's.

The Vulcan had no words at the moment, for more chilling than the terror she felt, was the look in Commander Tucker's eyes. It was a cool, detached look, yet it was also intensely alive, much like the look of a large feline predator… and then that look cracked, and all she saw in his eyes was disappointment, and that visible disappointment crushed T'POl. Still, she had to say something…

"The Bond can not be denied," said T'Pol. "The ties are permanent!"

"That might be true for you, T'Pol," said Trip, "but I'm a Human, and I get to walk away. Oh yes, I do."

And with that T'Pol felt herself falling through nothingness when Trip released his hold on her, and yet T'Pol was content… better the nothingness of oblivion, than life without her mate! And with that realization and a scream on impact, T'Pol woke in her quarters, her breath racing, her mind uncertain if she still lived, or not…

* * *

Captain Keloss of the Uvlev, the crippled Vulcan cruiser, stepped onto the Kumari's Bridge, and immediately pinpointed Shran as the Commander of this ship. It was the Andorian's commanding manner, you see.

"Gratitude for coming to our assistance," said Keloss, "Commander…"

"Shran. You're welcome."

"You asked to speak with me, Commander Shran," said Keloss, watching the Andorian video feeds on the main monitor, and seeing his beloved ship in dire straits.

"Is your ship worth saving," said Shran, "or is she so badly gutted that we should scuttle her?"

"She can be saved, Commander," said Keloss. "Even if she could not, there are dead Vulcans aboard that ship, and they deserve proper burial."

"Are your people coming to your aid?" said Shran. "We have no Vulcan signatures on our sensor scans."

"No," said Keloss. "The Romulans achieved tactical surprise. Their first strike took out Communications, Engineering and half the Bridge."

"I see," said Shran, and then Shran and Keloss monitored the rescue operation for the next fifteen minutes.

That process finally completed, half the Andorian cruisers locked tractor beams on the Vulcan ship, the other half on the Romulan, and with that the squadron split, and the ships moved at best speed for their respective destinations.

"May I ask where we are heading?" said Keloss.

"You and I are headed for Vulcan with your ship in tow," said Shran.

"And the other half of your squadron, with the Romulan ship in their grasp?" said Keloss.

"Andoria."

"That Romulan ship was in Vulcan space," said Keloss. "It should go to Vulcan."

"Imperial Guards died to capture that ship, Keloss," said Shran.

"I sympathize with that fact, Commander Shran, but I thought our peoples had agreed to cooperate together."

"What troubles you, Keloss?" said Shran. "The Emperor ordered that we capture a Romulan ship, so that we might learn their secrets. Should I leave this ship here for Romulans to come and salvage?"

"No, Commander," said Keloss, "but you could haul it to Vulcan, where its secrets would be studied by all our peoples."

"The Emperor has been open with you despite our history, Vulcan," said Shran. "I do not believe he will block your attempts to study the ship. But you will have to take the matter up with him, Keloss. I am an Imperial Guard. I serve the Andorian Emperor, Keloss, not you, not Vulcan, not Earth. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Keloss, knowing he'd get nowhere with Shran.

* * *

T'Fel boarded the turbo-lift with a purpose, and to her dismay she found that the lift already held four people. It wasn't that she was phobic or anything so irrational, but T'Fel didn't like to ride a packed lift: nothing more than that, nothing illogical. In any case, the slender Vulcan slipped past two Human females to take a place at the back of the lift, and to her dismay three more people entered the lift at the next stop. She recognized one of them as Ayvok, and then the lift began moving again.

A few moments later someone at the front of the lift grunted, then spoke, and T'Fel recognized the XO's voice.

"Someone's prodding my buttocks with something firm," said Commander Tucker, "and since you're right behind me, Ayvok, allow me to express my hope that the rigid object with which you're prodding me, is not what I think it is."

The Humans aboard the lift laughed at that, and Ayvok spoke.

"Telek ata vorelel, dossik," said Ayvok in Vulcan: 'It's a flashlight, fool.'

"A flashlight, you say," said Trip. "Oh, how I wish I could believe that, Ayvok."

The Humans laughed at that too, and then the turbo-lift door opened, and two of the Humans stepped off the lift, and now T'Fel had a good view of both Ayvok and the XO, and T'Fel studied Commander Tucker closely, but discreetly. Moments later the lift door opened again and Trip stepped off the lift along with a few crewmen, and at the next stop the rest of the Humans stepped off the lift, leaving Ayvok and T'Fel alone in the lift.

"Where to, T'Fel?" said Ayvok, fingers hovering over the deck keys.

"Mess Hall," said T'Fel.

"Ah, same here," said Ayvok, and the lift began moving.

"So," said T'Fel, "the XO understands Vulcan."

"He more than understands it, T'Fel," said Ayvok. "He is very nearly fluent."

"I see," said T'Fel. "And you feel free to call your commanding officer a fool?"

"It is a Human custom," said Ayvok. "He was 'busting my balls'… I believe I said that right. The XO tested me, and I showed him I had a fighting spirit."

"But you addressed him in Vulcan so as not to make your disrespect apparent to the other Humans," said T'Fel, speculating here.

"If I'd responded to the XO in English," said Ayvok, "my defiance would have provoked the XO into a humorous verbal pattern of retaliation. Thus, by speaking in Vulcan I struck back, without forcing the man to escalate the matter."

T'Fel seemed confused by the ways of Humans.

"It will take you a while to understand them, T'Fel," said Ayvok, "but it will come in time."

"As you say, SubCommander," said T'Fel, her thoughts turning to the XO: the man had unexpected depths to him, and that made him… fascinating.

* * *

Paxton was hosting a very intimate party of twelve aboard his 700 foot yacht, the Black Ibis. Congressman Osbourne was there, along with two other congressmen and one senator, all cynical enough to support any cause which would aid them in their reelection runs when the time came, and though they were too mercenary to be truly committed to any cause, they were here because Paxton had determined that he could make use of them. That was enough.

As for the other nine guests, they were all extremely wealthy businessmen, but wealth was not their defining characteristic, as Paxton had more wealth than any four of them put together… no, the reason they were here was that they were intelligent men, powerful men, men who had come out publicly after the Romulan attacks on Earth, and they'd demanded that Earth sever relationships with Vulcan. That was enough for Paxton, and he was certain that these men, given a focus and a definable purpose, would be nothing but an asset to Terra Prime, the organization ostensibly headed by Osbourne. Though Osbourne didn't know it, he was the patsy, and if things went badly, Paxton meant to leave Osbourne holding the bag with none the wiser as to the true power behind Terra Prime, but otherwise Osbourne was an asset: after striking his deal with Paxton earlier, the man had gone balls out to build Terra Prime into a respectable organization, and for that, Paxton valued Osbourne.

* * *

Shran's squadron of ships returned to Andoria after towing the damaged ship to Vulcan, and in return for the aid he'd rendered the Vulcan ship, Shran was notified that the High Command wished to honor him. The mere thought of such a thing bored Shran beyond belief, and so he politely indicated that he served at the Emperor's pleasure, and as such, regretfully, his time was not his own, and with that Shran made his escape and returned to Andoria after a 125 hour flight at Warp 5.

Once the Kumari was safely in system, Shran took a shuttle to Laikan, Andoria's capital city, where Shran held title to a sumptuous three story townhouse in an always trendy part of the city, as it was located fairly close to the Imperial Palace. This mansion was a reward from the Emperor himself once Shran had made Commander, as the Emperor rewarded his Guards in an orderly manner for attaining rank or performing notable deeds, and beautiful though this mansion was, it meant less to Shran than command of the Kumari.

It was there, in the wide boulevard which led to his house, than the shuttle which had ferried Shran home landed in order to drop Shran off conveniently close to his house, an act which was technically illegal. Not the that the Imperial Guards cared if they should inconvenience civilians for a few minutes one way or another, not would any civilian even think to complain: it was the Guards which kept Andorian territory free of the Orion Syndicate's predations, they were the ones that placed their lives in opposition to Vulcan plots, they were the ones that stood ready to repel the Klingons if those barbarians should ever pour out of their empire and cast their eyes on Andoria, and they did all that even at the cost of their lives… so civilians had no complaints at the three minute delay in their workday.

As Shran walked for the front door, he looked forward to a hot bath in the oversized tub that might as well be a small pool, but as he drew closer to the front door, he noticed two Imperial Guards waiting for him at the door.

"Well met, Brother," said one of the Guards. "I am Ebrik, and this is Anorr.

Shran nodded to them both, then grasped forearms with each of the Guards, and said, "Well met, Brothers. You obviously knew that I was on my way home. You should have waited inside. My housekeeper would have seen you wait in comfort."

"We did not wish to impose," said Ebrik. "In any case, we just got here, and we will leave you shortly. We are here at the Emperor's command. He was pleased that you brought us that Romulan prize, and I personally believe that he was even more pleased that you remembered where your loyalties lie."

"Was that ever in question?" said Shran, an edge to his voice even as his hand reached unconsciously for his Guard's dagger.

"No, of course not, Brother," said Ebrik, for questioning a Guard's loyalty was a dangerous thing to do. "If I've offended, I ask forgiveness. It was not intentional."

"I am not offended," said Shran, his hand sliding off his Guard's dagger.

"Than well met, Brother," said Ebrik, and Anorr murmured the same: with that, Ebrink handed Shran a silk wrapped bundle, and then Ebrik and Anor all but vanished, their duty fulfilled.

Once indoors Shran curiously unwrapped the black silk cloth, and his breath caught. In his hands he held a Guard's dagger, but it was marked with the Emperor's sigil. It was a capital crime to display the Emperor's sigil without permission, and so the gift of this dagger was a tangible sign of the Emperor's favor, and as such it was fairly rare. In his whole career with the Guards, Shran had seen perhaps a hundred Guards wearing such gifts from the Emperor. Drawing the blade from it's sheath, Shran was awed by the beauty of the temper line, the intricacy of the folded steel. As a weapon it was worth thousands, as a unique work of art it's value was at least tripled, and as a gift from the Emperor it was priceless.

* * *

**Kathy: I notice you're reading this story, and frankly that fact terrifies me! I know you're strong for T&T and I fear this story will make you track me down, and take me out. All I ask, if you decide to snuff me, is to keep in mind that Rishooter, MostDismalFeldsparkle and LoyaulteMeLie all had a hand in this monstrosity, so clean house baby, take us all out, not just me! Not just me!


	33. Chapter 33

— **Chapter 33 —**

* * *

Three months had passed since the Columbia had left space dock, and the situation at large was mixed bag.

For one, the number of Romulan attacks had markedly increased on both Earth and Vulcan, and these attacks had become an almost constant backdrop of small scale assassinations and sabotage operations aimed at high value targets, and these somewhat manageable outrages were punctuated by sudden flareups every bit as grand and vicious as the earliest attacks, and this despite the fact that some 780 Romulans had been killed and accounted for between the security forces of both planets. It was hoped, and believed, that the Romulans had been unable to reinforce the number of Shrikes and Marines still on Earth and Vulcan, but than of course, the million dollar question was, exactly how many Romulans were still scattered among the Vulcans on Earth and on Vulcan itself, and none but the Romulans themselves had an answer to that question.

In the void of space the Romulan attacks took the form of a never ending pattern of predation on shipping and commerce, as well as a a number of stealth attacks on the military ships, facilities and shipyards of the federation, although such attacks were largely focused on Vulcan assets. It could have been worse though, for the lack of Romulan numbers meant that their ships were dispersed too far and wide to control the vast sectors of space through which they cruised, and that fact still allowed for something of a sense of normalcy to still prevail in federation space.

Still, none expected this state of things to last forever, as each member of the federation knew that sooner or later the Romulans would bring the full scope of their power to bear upon this sector of space, and that would crank up the heat and turn a nasty situation into a nightmare, for although the Romulans were mysterious, they were clearly able to field brutally effective military units and ships.

Interestingly, a new source of information had been developed by the Andorians, when their Emperor sent message to the Orion Syndicate, through a catch and release program of captured Orions, which let it be known that the Orion Syndicate had twenty-one days to provide every bit of hard data which the Syndicate had on Romulans and the Romulan Star Empire, else Andorian fleets would begin waging war on the Syndicate in earnest, and turn Syndicate space into a graveyard in the process…

This was not a threat which was taken lightly by the Syndicate, for although the Orions easily outnumbered the Andorians and could more than match them ship for ship, the Syndicate was not truly a war power, and armed merchantmen, raiders and pirate ships were simply no match for genuine ships of war, and the profit oriented mindset of the pirate and slaver was no match for the viciousness and unpredictability of an Andorian warrior's mindset.

More to the point, the Andorian campaign of 2090 was burned into the memory of every Orion in Syndicate space, for that was the year in which the Andorian Emperor of the time, Aellemar, had sent his fleets into Syndicate space, where they'd nuked every Orion world, asteroid mining colony, orbiting ship yard and Orion outpost within twenty lightyears of the Andorian border, and none of these places had been rebuilt or repopulated since that time.

So this was a credible threat from the Andorian Emperor, and a demand easily fulfilled for Syndicate space bordered both the Klingon and the Romulan Empires on their western front, and so the Orions had frequent contact with the Romulans and had their own grudges against them, so well within that deadline the Andorians were flooded with tons of useful information, such as starmaps, marked with border outposts, known military patrol routes, listening posts, a list of heavily trafficked routes for Romulan ships, commercial and military, etc… and all that data was passed along to the other members of the federation, and marked as reliable, for the Orions were well aware of the penalty for lying to the Emperor: there was only one - death. And as a last inducement to the Syndicate, the Emperor let it be known that for each month in which the Syndicate produced additional high-quality information on the Romulans, he would hold forbid his Guards from conducting raids into Syndicate space, and the Syndicate was quick to take advantage of that mercy, by providing the desired intelligence on an ongoing basis.

As for the Enterprise, she'd returned to duty after replacing the casualties caused by the Romulan attack on the way to Tellar, and she was fully outfitted now as a capable platform for war, what with the upgraded weapons banks, and a fully functional shield array, and together with the Columbia, she was the pride of StarFleet, the first two ships of what was envisioned to soon be a fleet of such NX ships. Even now, five more NX class ships were in some stage of construction, as well as dozens of smaller Delus class ships.

Meanwhile, aboard the Columbia, Trip had easily slipped into his role as the ship's XO and second in the chain of command, and he'd done so quite naturally. That was understandable given that he had two years of deep space experience on rest of the crew, and it showed, thus Trip floated the idea that perhaps they should do a partial personnel swap with the Enterprise, leavening the ranks of the inexperienced crew aboard the Columbia with some of the Enterprise's veterans in order to rapidly bring the rookies up to speed… it was a good suggestion as far as Captain Hernandez was concerned, but that was not something to be hammered out just between her and Jon. This would have to go through official channels, and so Captain Hernandez made an official proposal, and forwarded it to Admiral Forrest. She heard back from the admiral just hours later, as the Admiral liked the idea, and was pleased to implement the crew exchange. With Romulan attacks coming more and more frequently, and the Enterprise and the Columbia being StarFleet's best ships at the moment, it was imperative that they both operated as close to peak efficiency as possible. Accordingly, the two ships were scheduled to meet briefly, ten days from the current date to do the personnel swap.

* * *

"So, I have news," said Erika, handing Trip a tumbler half-filled with sipping rum.

"Thanks," said Trip, wedging himself in one of the overstuffed chairs in the captain's Ready Room. "So what's the news, Captain?"

"Admiral Forrest gave the thumbs up for our personnel exchange with the Enterprise," said Erika

"What does Jon say about it?" said Trip, after taking a sip of his rum, and giving out a satisfied murmur.

"I'm not sure he knows yet," said Erika, sporting a wicked smile on her face.

Trip recognized that smile, since he'd known Erika almost as long as he'd known Jon, and Trip returned that smile with a grin of his own, because they were both thinking the same thing: Jon's gonna be pissed! Say what you will about Jon, but he valued his people, and he took pride in having the most experienced crew in StarFleet, and swapping even a portion of his crew with the Columbia would affect efficiency to some degree, and strip him of some experienced people. Not a good thing, as far as Jon was concerned.

"I'll make you a deal, Captain," said Trip.

"What's that, Trip?" said Erika, eyeing Trip over the rim of her glass.

"When you get the call from Jon, and you will get a call from Jon," said Trip, "do something for me."

"What's that?"

"Tell Jon this crew swap was my idea," said Trip, with a hard grin on his face. "Just let it slip into the conversation."

Erika laughed out loud at that, and said, "Oh, Trip, you have to tell me! What did Jon do to you?"

"No comment, Captain," said Trip, knowing that Jon would never talk about that matter to anyone, least of all to Erika, as the two had an on again, off again relationship, and gentle though she usually was, Erika had a wee bit of a jealous streak, which Jon would never purposely rile up by confessing to his intimate involvement with T'Pol.

"It's not fair!" said Erika, dying to know the root of Trip's discontent with Jon. "I could order you to tell me."

Trip said nothing, though he gave the captain a skeptical look.

"Tell me, tell me, tell me!" said Erika. "That's an order!"

"This is good rum, I'll tell you that much, Captain," said Trip, before taking another sip. "So, will you do it? Will you tell Jon it was my idea?"

"Sure," said Erika, almost purring the word: if she couldn't shake the truth out of Trip, she could still rattle Jon's cage a bit. "I'll do it, Trip. So what are you going to do for me?"

Trip polished off his drink, and raised a brow at Erika while touching the bottle of rum.

Erika gave him a wave, and said, "Go for it. I'd be offended if you didn't think it good enough for a second glass."

Trip poured himself a few more ounces, refreshed Erika's drink, then sank back down into his chair.

"So, you were about to tell me what you're going to do for me..." said Erika once more.

"I know every crewman aboard the Enterprise," said Trip, "and I can get us some good people, Captain. You know Jon's a tricky bastard, and he'll try to keep the cream of the crop for himself."

Erika gave Trip's words the proper consideration, then said, "Deal. I'll do my part, Trip, and you get me the best people he's got. Draw up a list of names for me, ASAP."

"You got it, Captain," said Trip, laughing at the thought of screwing with Jon's head.

The two spent the next twenty minutes chatting then, for they'd always been on good terms, and during Trip's time on the Columbia they'd only grown closer, so Trip wasn't just the ship's XO, he was also his captain's confidante, and friend… eventually ship's business intruded, and with that, Trip stood and gave the captain a slight wave, then left the Ready Room.

* * *

"That son of a bitch!" said Archer, slapping the conference room table, and then looking at T'Pol.

T'Pol merely raised an inquisitive brow, though she had the feeling that the SOB in question was Commander Tucker, and just the thought of the man was enough to cause her heart to skip a beat: odd that, considering that he'd so cruelly chosen to abandon ship, abandon her, even after she'd bared her heart to the man.

I must purge myself of these foolish emotions, thought T'Pol, for regret is a useless emotion.

"Trip," said Archer, sliding a PADD unit towards T'Pol. "This is his doing!"

T'Pol glanced at the list of names displayed on the PADD unit, and them she looked up at Archer.

"That SOB wants our best people!" said Archer. "And Forrest is likely to grant these transfers, given that the crew of the Columbia is a crop of rookies."

"Well, they're only asking for ten percent of our crew," said T'Pol, ever the voice of reason. "They could use some good people now, and we can bring their replacements up to speed in short order, Captain."

"T'Pol," said Archer, "look at the list: Thompson, Lee, Nuristani, Dubois, Martin! And that's just the tip of it, T'Pol! I'm betting that Trip will—"

"Captain, it would do you well to consider that these experienced people may make the difference between life and death for the Columbia, Captain Hernandez," said T'Pol, tactfully alluding to the captain's affections for Erika, "and Commander Tucker himself. Even more to the point, this is only a temporary, six week, personnel swap. So why the aggravation?"

"All right, I get your point, T'Pol," said Archer. "We'll make the best of it, but you don't know him, you don't know Trip. That SOB can hold a grudge, and he's got a hard on for me now. If he can, he'll try to maneuver things so that they keep our people."

"If you say so, Captain," said T'Pol, quite absentmindedly, her thoughts resting on Commander Tucker now, rather than Archer's complaints.

Thinking of Commander Tucker was nothing new for T'Pol, not since he'd left the ship… dreams, daydreams, meditation periods frequently disrupted by thoughts of the man. It was almost as if she glimpsed him from the corner of her eyes at times, almost sensed him around the corner, almost heard his voice at the limits of her hearing, or caught his scent at the oddest times, and all this happened though he'd been long gone from the ship.

I am acting like a silly Human schoolgirl, thought T'Pol, chiding herself cynically now. I am a lunatic.

That former thought was accurate enough, but the latter exaggeration was baseless enough that T'Pol actually felt the impulse to chuckle at that thought, but the impulse turned bitter and died before it even passed her lips. The world was simply colorless since he'd left the ship…

He's gone and taken the vitality of the world with him, thought T'Pol, and I wake and move through my day, day after day, just going through the motions.

And with that thought T'Pol realized she'd moved past funk and into depression, for despite the common belief that Vulcans were emotionless robots, the truth was far different, and controlling emotion and modulating one's responses to it, was a far cry from lacking emotion, no matter how sweet that thought at times.

Wonderful, thought T'Pol. I'm officially a basketcase.


	34. Chapter 34

— **Chapter 34 —**

* * *

Trip moved through the halls of the Columbia, and he did so juggling a large thermos of Ceylon tea and two cups, on his way to T'Fel's quarters. When he'd first boarded the ship he'd been somewhat gun-shy of dealing with T'Fel, for she'd reminded him of T'Pol, but he'd eventually mellowed out on that score, given how different their personalities. Once that hurdle had been cleared, he'd begun to see her as an individual, and begun treating her as such, and in the process they'd fallen into a pretty good working relationship: good enough that they'd scheduled their first Vulcan language lesson together, when duty had forced Ayvok to cancel this evening's lesson, and T'Fel had kindly offered her services.

Minutes later, Trip reached T'Fel's cabin and stepped inside, and in doing so he stepped into another world! It was amazing!

Contrary to every other cabin aboard the Columbia, which was basically a steel box with a few personal touches, stepping into T'Fel's cabin felt like stepping into the interior of a large tent, for T'Fel had artistically arranged bolts of fine colorful fabrics in a floor to ceiling pattern, a somewhat abstract pattern, so that the tent analogy wasn't completely accurate, but it was close. More surprising still, the floor was covered in what seemed to be a fine, cream colored, fluffy fur, and Trip slipped his shoes off without the necessity of a request from T'Fel: anyone would think it a crime to soil this place!

"I will be right in," said T'Fel from the bathroom, and through the open door, Trip saw that the Vulcan was washing her face. "Make yourself comfortable."

"All right," said Trip, and set his cargo atop T'Fel's desk, in order to explore this magical room.

An easel in the corner of the room held a canvas with a painting in progress, and it was wonderfully colorful, reminding Trip of a Leonid Afremov painting. Next to that, a small square dresser which supported a foot high clay sculpture of some type of large feline, apparently a work in progress, and Trip studied it closely.

"That is a le-matya," said T'Fel, and Trip had been so captivated by the sculpture that he hadn't sensed T'Fel coming up on him. "It is a fierce Vulcan predator with venomous claws. If my schedule permits I will finish it within the next few days."

"It's beautiful, T'Fel," said Trip. "I love cats, and that's a lovely work."

"Thank you, Commander Tucker," said T'Fel.

"You can call me Trip, in private. It's my nickname."

"All right, Trip," said T'Fel.

"And I think the painting is quite striking, T'Fel," said Trip, turning his attention to the painting.

"Truly?"

"Oh, yes, T'Fel."

"It is a Risan Blue Emperor butterfly," said T'Fel, looking fondly at the painting.

"Stunning," said Trip. "And intriguing."

"Intriguing?" said T'Fel, brow raised as she looked at the painting with a critical eye, striving to see it through the commander's eyes. "How so?"

"He has a sinister look in his eyes," said Trip.

"Sinister? He is a butterfly."

"A butterfly with a sinister look in his eyes, T'Fel."

"Well, he is an emperor, Commander Tucker," said T'Fel, a convert to Trip's profound insight into the subject of her art, "and rulers must have a touch of the sinister, in order to rule effectively."

"I'll keep that in mind, T'Fel," said Trip, looking round the cabin. "It may improve my command presence."

"I think you are doing just fine on that score," said T'Fel, watching the man's face closely, as he took stock of her cabin.

"This cabin is magnificent, T'Fel," said Trip. "You should run tours through here, make a bit of money on the side."

"I will consider that suggestion," said T'Fel.

"I'm surprised at the fur carpet though," said Trip. "It's an unusual choice for a Vulcan."

"It is a krushii carpet from Regulus, and it is not fur," said T'Fel, "though I'll grant you that it looks and feels like fur. So call it faux fur for T'Fel."

Trip nodded, and turned to study T'Fel now: she looked subtly different in the privacy of her quarters, and the differences were charming. Her glossy black hair, usually bound in a bun or a pony tail while on duty now hung down to the middle of her back, and rather than a Vulcan uniform, T'Fel wore a loose green blouse, and a cute peasant dress she'd clearly purchased somewhere on Earth, and if the dress hung to her ankles, it was also slit on the left up to mid-thigh, showing tantalizing glimpses of a lovely pair of legs.

"Ah, you brought the tea," said T'Fel, taking note of the thermos and the cups.

"That I did," said Trip, looking round the cabin, and then turning to look suspiciously at T'Fel. "What about you? Did you hold up your end of the bargain?"

"Oh, yes," said T'Fel, and presented a pastry box which had been concealed from Trip's line of sight by T'Fel's computer monitor. "Here it is. Chef's Salted Caramel, Coconut & Chocolate Cheesecake."

"That's the 7 inch cake!" said Trip, speaking of the cakes diameter. "Why didn't you get the 9 inch cake?"

"When I ordered it this morning and told Chef that I was placing the order on your behalf, he refused to make the 9 inch cake you requested, Commander Tucker," said T'Fel. "He said you eat too many sweets as it is. I told him that you would not be pleased by his refusal to go big, but Chef said that if you have a problem with it, he would cut you off sweets altogether."

"Oh, God, not that!" said Trip. "The 7 inch cake is fine, T'Fel. Let's eat!"

In short order the two were comfortably seated atop T'Fel's bed, where they chatted amiably about the day's events, and in the course of twenty minutes or so T'Fel consumed a thin slice of Chef's cake, while Trip consumed four times that much, and did so without a trace of inner conflict over his apparent gluttony.

Not that T'Fel made a point of shaming the man: Chef's Salted Caramel Coconut & Chocolate Cheesecake was a 1/2 inch high layer of coconut cheesecake, topped with a 1/2 inch layer of rich chocolate cake, and then that pattern was repeated twice more, for a 3 inch high chocolate cheesecake, frosted with a thick layer of coconut flavored butter cream frosting, and then liberally doused in Chef's lightly salted caramel sauce, and it was heaven itself!

After eating, T'Fel removed the plates and then excused herself to slip into some ankle length socks, and Trip couldn't help but notice that although T'Fel was modest enough to step out of sight, the wall mounted mirror in the room gave him a wonderful view of T'Fel's calves and thighs as she moved her skirt aside in order to place one foot after the other atop a chair, in order to don her socks… sure he could have looked away, but come on! Those long elegant legs were too fine to ignore: to do so would be... illogical.

They sprawled out on the floor then, for Trip was concerned that the bed was too unstable a platform from which to drink hot tea, but that luxurious carpet was no step down at all in comfort, for it was wonderfully soft, and it was there that Trip and T'Fel spent the next three hours studying Vulcan, although for Trip, that time passed much too quickly.

"I suppose we can call it quits here," said T'Fel. "You must be tired."

Trip held T'Fel's gaze for a time, unconsciously captivated by her doe eyed glance, and as T'Fel noted Trip's intensity, she blushed and then lowered her eyes shyly, and Trip couldn't help but notice the differences between T'Pol and T'Fel… one exuded poise, the other femininity, and in T'Fel, the controlled and often stiff body language which he'd long associated with Vulcans was completely absent, and in it's place there was a joy and a lightness to her that was enchanting.

"I'm not tired at all, T'Fel," said Trip, with a scoundrel's grin on his face, "if you want to tutor me through the night."

T'Fel's eyes widened as she parsed the true meaning of Trip's words, after which she said, "It is too soon for that kind of an effort, Trip."

T'Fel's response could be interpreted two ways, much as the XO's own words, but something had changed between them, subtle though the change, but soon after, Trip scooped up the plates, utensils and most importantly the cake box with half a cake still within, after which Trip made to grab the thermos and cups.

"No, leave them," said T'Fel. "Your hands are full. I will return them to the Mess Hall tomorrow morning."

"All right," said Trip, looking down at T'Fel, for there was a five inch difference between Trip's height of 6'1", and T'Fel's height.

"I enjoyed this evening immensely," said T'Fel.

"As did I," said Trip with a smile.

"In fact, I would not mind doing this again sometime, if that would see you learn Vulcan more efficiently," said T'Fel, too shy to make eye contact just then, though colored cheeks betrayed her errant thoughts.

"I'd like that, T'Fel," said Trip, and with that he took his leave.

With the man just departed from her quarters, T'Fel sighed, spun round and pressed her back to the cabin's door, and glimpsed herself only partially in the wall mounted mirror. Well, that was no surprise. It had taken her a bit of experimentation earlier in the day, to discover the sweet spot in the room, from where she could don her socks in seeming modesty, while still showing off her legs and giving the man a playful treat from his place on her bed.

* * *

"I need a supervisor!" said one of the techs monitoring all possible bandwidths from his station in a EarthGov Situation Room, one of a thousand which had been fully staffed, and manned 24/7, since this whole Romulan thing had begun.

Wilhelm Muller, one of the three men in a supervisory position came to stand next to the tech in need of attention, and the tech handed Wilhelm his headset.

"…doing calling this number," said Voice 1. "You'd better have a good reason."

"I do," said Voice 2. "Those damned Humans got the drop on us. We're in bad shape, we're stuck in place and it's hot, and getting hotter. We need a ride out of here."

Wilhelm looked at the tech's monitor, for the man was tapping the screen to show an address, and a location on south-east side of Berlin. He did not have to say anything more, for everyone was aware of the Romulan attack which had taken place some ten blocks from the location where this call was originating.

"Text me your precise location," said Voice 1.

A few moments delay, and Wilhelm made eye contact with the tech, and said, "Alert squads 3 through 9. Send them to this location in order to check this out."

The tech complied, and Voice 1 came back on the line.

"Got it," said Voice 1. "We'll be there in forty minutes."

Squads 3 through 9, composed of German light infantry soldiers were rolling for the given address five minutes after receiving the call, and as things stood, they would presumably reach the given location fifteen to twenty minutes before the Romulans would reach their wounded comrades. What's more, these soldiers would be joined by some eighty or ninety German police officers... more than enough men, and time, to set up a nice ambush to welcome those Romulan bastards to Berlin when they came to pick up their fellows.

Trouble was, the Romulans did not show up as expected, and when the German soldiers entered the building, they found only an abandoned cellphone. However, this distraction meant that they were too far away to respond when a frantic call went out about a runway 18-wheeler truck running checkpoints, headed directly for the packed Olympiastadion Berlin, a huge sports stadium in which a World Championship soccer match was taking place just now.

That stadium was fully packed to its 74,475 seating capacity, as a single Romulan Shrike, badly wounded earlier that day, detonated a mid-sized matter-antimatter bomb which essentially wiped out the stadium, and a bit more than that as well, for a total casualty toll of some 83,905 casualties in one of Europe's largest cities.

* * *

Four days after Trip's first Vulcan language lesson with T'Fel, the Columbia and three Delus class ships were tasked with escorting and protecting a convoy of thirty cargo ships headed for the Human colony on Alpha Centauri, 4.37 light-years away from Earth. Given the limitations of the Warp 4 engines used by the cargo ships, the flight to Alpha Centauri would take fifteen days or so, and despite the dangers of spaceflight in the current climate, trade and commerce still occurred, as the losses incurred were acceptable, statistically speaking.

That did not mean that the fledgling federation was content to allow the Romulans free run of the sector, and military vessels patrolled Human, Denobulan, Vulcan and Andorian space round the clock, sometimes providing protection to cargo vessels all the way to their destinations, other times doing so just part of the way, only to switch protection to a different convoy at random, and then hopscotch to still another convoy, all in an unpredictable pattern that would hopefully stymie the Romulans. The tactic was successful to some degree and losses dropped some 12%, as single Romulan raiders were willing to bypass well guarded targets, and wait for the next target of opportunity, in order to avoid unnecessary entanglements.

But Captain Hernandez, in command of this small squadron, was not one to take chances, so the crews of all four StarFleet ships were on Yellow Alert the entire time, which meant that weapons crews were close to their stations around the clock, and all four ships interrogated their environment constantly, in search for cloaked Romulans, with the enhanced sensor packages modeled on the one unit delivered to StarFleet by Section 31. Better yet, the original sensor package had been further augmented after close scrutiny of the Romulan ship which Shran had captured not long past, and the combination of those things gave the federation ships a 40-64% chance of detecting Romulans, depending on the situation… not perfect, not by a long shot, but much better than nothing.

And so it was that this small squadron of StarFleet ships headed out for Alpha Centauri, with orders to see this convoy reach its destination safely. All went well for the first five days, and then things went to hell…


	35. Chapter 35

— **Chapter 35 —**

* * *

The first sign that things had taken a turn for the worse came when one of the lead cargo ships struck a cloaked Romulan mine. Those damned things were truly invisible for now, as their power output was essentially nonexistent, for they were largely mechanical devices which exploded upon contact, and the cloaking device ran off batteries, so there was no engine output to give them away. Still, the situation did not seem dire at first, for although the cargo ship was damaged, the crew was reportedly unhurt.

Still, the entire convoy came to a stop in short order so that they might render aid to the damaged ship, and even as the civilians began taking stock of the situation from their end, the StarFleet vessels began prowling around, sensors interrogating the surrounding area in a search for Romulan shipsigns. After forty minutes of that, Captain Hernandez had enough, for she felt exposed just standing in place.

"Captain Erit," said Captain Hernandez, addressing the captain of the damaged merchant ship, "report your condition."

"My crew has escaped injury, Captain," said Erit, "but I've got a half dozen breached compartments, out of fourteen compartments total. Unfortunately, without extensive repairs to the cargo hull, I can't do better than Warp 2.7."

"Understood," said Erika. "Detach your ship from the cargo structure, and let's get underway. You can do Warp 4 if you're relieved of the damaged cargo section."

"Captain," said Erit, "I'm carrying heavy machinery here, worth some thirty million credits. Even with my losses, we can salvage something of this mess."

"Negative," said Erika. "You know the math. Continuing our journey at Warp 2.7 would add five weeks to our trip."

"Considering that this equipment is worth millions," said Erit, "the added time is well worth it."

"Not as I see it. My ships can not spend five weeks escorting a merchant convoy, Captain Erit," said Erika, "and I am not risking this entire convoy for one ship."

"Captain, I think—"

"We're done speaking now, Captain Erit," said Erika. "Insurance will cover your losses, or you can try to salvage it on the way back, but I'm delivering this convoy to Alpha Centauri on time. Now detach your ship from your cargo structure and prepare to rejoin our convoy, or you'll be left behind."

"Understood," said Erit. "Please give me twenty minutes to detach my ship from the cargo structure."

"Affirmative," said Erika, the looked at Trip. "I'm never going to hear the end of it, if we don't recover that load on the way back."

"That's not true," said Trip. "You made the right call, Captain. Anyway, we don't work for the shipping companies, so we don't answer to them. Our service to those companies is a courtesy."

"That's true," said Erika, feeling a bit better now. "Thanks for the support, XO."

"That's what I'm here for, Captain."

Unfortunately, neither Trip's support, nor Erit's efforts to detach the cargo structure from his purpose built cargo-hauler in short order were enough to alter the chain of events which were initiated a day earlier, when this convoy had first been detected by long range Romulan sensors... and had in turn, brought two Romulan Birds-of-Prey on an intercept course with the convoy. Now although the Romulan ships were too distant to take advantage of the stalled convoy, the delay caused by the damaged ship allowed the the Romulans to situate themselves between Alpha Centauri and the convoy, thus ensuring that the Humans would have to pass by them in order to reach their destination.

It was just six hours later that the ships of the two respective species made contact with each other, as the cloaked Romulans approached the Human convoy from a head on vector, thus presenting the smallest possible cross section to StarFleet's sensor arrays, and the Romulans did so while constantly changing speed, which added a random pattern to the already miniscule shipsigns, which meant that the Humans were unprepared when the Romulan ships bracketed the Columbia with disruptor fire and plasma torpedoes on their fly-by pass, for as the largest ship, the Columbia was clearly the most dangerous.

The Romulans had achieved complete tactical surprise, and at such close range their disruptor fire brought down the Columbia's shields with that first salvo, followed moments later by plasma torpedoes which burned into the Columbia's hull, melting through in several places and venting the contents of those compartments into space. It was a perfectly executed maneuver... the Columbia just got lucky on that first pass.

"Report!" said Captain Hernandez, as soon as she'd gained her bearings and taken the command chair, for the ferocity of the unexpected attack had caused the captain to stumble and slam her head into the hard steel corner of the captain's chair, on the captain's run for the Bridge, from the Ready Room.

"Shields are down, Captain," said Lt-Commander Burr, the Tactical officer on duty. "Warp engines are offline, impulse engines are nominal, steerage is 67% nominal. All our ships have dropped out of warp to remain with us, as have the Romulans."

A shower of sparks drew Erika's attention and she saw the XO on his back, working on Helm's console from underneath.

"The Romulans?" said Erika.

"They overshot us in the course of their passage, but they're coming around now, Captain," said Burr. "Our ships have moved to stand between us and the Romulans, in order to buy us some time."

Erika understood the maneuver, for the Romulans couldn't ignore three armed ships, even if these ships were something less than their own.

"The convoy?" said Erika.

"They're scrambling around, constantly moving," said the Tactical officer.

"XO?" said Erika, feeling a bit nauseous.

"Almost there, Captain," said Trip, hands moving faster.

Erika nodded, the room spinning slightly now, and said, "Wrap it up, XO."

"Yes, sir," said Trip.

The Romulans were nearly within shooting range now, and the three Delus class ships advanced towards the enemy boldly. The match would have been an interesting one were this merely an academic matter, as the Delus class had speed and agility in spades, while the Birds-of-Prey had toughness and impressive weaponry.

At least the Romulan cloaking devices were offline now for they could not be reset for another ten or fifteen minutes, and although the Romulans could have simply pulled back, they were intent on taking the Columbia out of play now, certain that the rest of StarFleet's vessels would surely fall in their turn soon afterwards.

"I have full Helm control," said the officer manning that post.

"Good," said Trip, standing.

"Status?" said Erika, looking at Tactical.

"The Romulans will make contact with our ships in 97 seconds at their current trajectory," said Tactical.

"Call our ships back," said Erika.

"Sir?" said Tactical.

"Follow that order!" barked Trip.

"Yes, sir," said Tactical, and tapped out a command sequence on the keyboard of his Tactical console. "Our ships are falling back, Captain."

Erika would have responded, but her disorientation was only growing worse.

"Captain?" said Trip, "are you all right?"

No answer was forthcoming to the XO's question, for just then Erika threw up.

Trip looked at the Comm officer, and said, "Get a medical team with a gurney up here. Quickly."

"Yes, sir," said the Comm officer.

Trip moved next to the captain, and Erika looked up at him, her eyes clouded by confusion, her pupils fully dilated.

"Hold on, Erika," said Trip, holding the captain's hand: a second later he looked at Tactical. "Status."

"Weapons are hot," said Tactical. "I do not have shields."

"Engineering," said Trip, moving aside to allow the ship's doctor and two men from Medical carrying a gurney take charge of the captain, and with a last look of concern for Erika, Trip turned his attention to the Romulans. "How long before I have shields?"

"Five minutes, XO," said a voice in Engineering.

Trip looked at the Bridge display on the main video monitor, for Tactical had sent his feed there, and the tactical display showed two dots marked as ADV1 and ADV2, while the StarFleet vessels were marked by their transponder as the Kismet, Yersin and the Wisp.

"Polarize the hull," said Trip to Tactical, for the ship had been built with that system in place, as shields had not been an option when the Columbia had been under construction, and though a polarized hull was inferior to shields, it was better than nothing.

"Hull is polarized, sir," said the Tactical officer a moment later.

"Comm," said Trip, looking at his Communication officer. "Connect me with our ships."

A moment later, the Comm officer pointed at Trip.

"We will advance on the Romulans as a unit," said Trip. "We will all concentrate our fire on ADV1, until we kill it or damage it badly enough to force the ship to withdraw from the battle."

The captains of the Delus ships answered in the affirmative, and the fight was on.

Now what followed was not an inspiring tale of victory against overwhelming odds, but it was an example of a basic team tactic well executed by the StarFleet vessels, for although the two sides jockeyed for advantage and traded weapons fire for twenty minutes or so, at the end of it, the Romulan ship designated as ADV1 was damaged badly enough that she'd been forced to break contact and attempt retreat. Her sister ship attempted to protect the wounded Romulan valiantly for a time, and then turned to attack the merchant ships in a tactic calculated to draw the StarFleet vessels away from their Romulan target, and to the defense of their own cargo ships.

That gambit didn't work for the Romulans, for the Columbia pressed the wounded ship relentlessly even as the Yersin, the Kismet and the Wisp valiantly defended the convoy… and when the damaged Romulan ship exploded, she did so with a violence that was surprising, as it had purposely self-destructed in order to avoid capture. With that, the sole Romulan ship remaining fled the scene at high warp, and soon after, the Humans were back on course for Alpha Centauri at best speed.

* * *

"You know," said Trip, looking down at Erika in her Sick Bay bed, "Jon always said you had a soft heart, but he never said you had a soft head."

Erika chuckled at that barb, and said, "Listen, let's see you slam your head into the back of a command chair and come out of it unscathed!"

"Well, I didn't ask you to do that, did I?" said Trip, laughing at Erika. "I'm glad you'll live though, or else I'd have to take command of the Columbia full time. There is that… I'd get command of the Columbia, wouldn't I?"

"Don't even think about it, fool!" said Erika. "So we're going to make Alpha Centauri?"

"Seems like it," said Trip.

"How's the ship?"

"She took some hits," said Trip, "but two, three weeks in space dock and she'll be as pretty as ever, though I think we should leave the plasma burns on the hull. It projects an air of toughness which may stand us in good stead in future encounters."

"I'll think about it. I'm just glad we didn't lose anyone," said Erika, as the doctor had brought her up to speed on the casualties taken during the Romulan attack just before Trip had reached SickBay. "I owe you one, XO."

"You're damned right you do," said Trip. "How long before you get off your back and start carrying your load around here?"

"Doc's got a scan scheduled for me later, and if I'm good, I'm out."

The PA system in the SickBay piped up just then with an "XO to the Bridge."

With that call, ship's business intruded on Trip's time with the captain, and Erika fell back to the mattress to silently count the moments until her escape from SickBay.

Eventually the convoy arrived at Alpha Centauri, where the StarFleet vessels had a two day layover as the engineers aboard each ship gave their vessel a once over, and then they headed back to Earth, seven of the merchants returning with them to Earth. As a bonus, the abandoned cargo structure was salvaged on the way back to Earth, so the final tally for their flight to Alpha Centauri was a dozen wounded and some material losses, and all in all, that was better than expected.

* * *

T'Pol sighed and opened her eyes, having just finished an hour long period of meditation and feeling no better for the effort. Nothing seemed right since Commander Tucker had left the ship, and apparently there wasn't much she could do to mend things on that front. She'd tried reaching out to the man a number of times, and each time her messages had been deleted, and they'd been deleted unopened. Worse yet, she had another three or four months to go before the undesirable side effects of her aborted pon'farr cycle passed, and though her sexual desires were still there and still strong, mating with Archer and Reed was not doing it for her lately. She'd mated with Archer earlier in order to relieve her tension, and yet the release was minimal.

And then, in the blink of an eye T'Pol had a brief vision... and she was startled when she caught a reflection in a mirror, for she seemed clothed in Commander Tucker's body, after which she looked down at an ill or hurt Captain Hernandez, in what T'Pol was certain was the Columbia's SickBay. The shock of it all brought T'Pol to her senses, and after shock, came realization!

The dreams she'd had of Commander Tucker since his departure, the imagery of the man which she'd dismissed as artifacts of her subconscious, and all that compounded by this waking vision made one thing clear. Her mind was joined to Commander Tucker's mind... there was but one explanation for that direct contact with Trip's mind, and that explanation had a name: the Bond… that semi-mystical psychic bond which joined one Vulcan katra to another in an unbreakable lifelong Bond, and allowed thoughts, feelings and sensory input to be effortlessly shared between Bonded mates.

This can not be, thought T'Pol. He is a Human! It is impossible!

Right on cue, a thought came to T'Pol, from a much deeper well than her conscious mind: Not so, it said. You have found your mate, T'Pol. The Bond can not be denied.


	36. Chapter 36

— **Chapter 36 —**

* * *

The Enterprise was on course for Earth now, and as the ship passed Mars, Archer ordered Helm to pilot the Enterprise past the forty-two Delus ships guarding this planet, and do a close fly-by of StarFleet's Iron Mountain shipyards, which were located in geosynchronous orbit around Mars. This fly-by was a longstanding habit of Archer's, as the captain found it interesting to keep track of the shipyard's progress, for this facility was constantly expanding, even as it turned out new StarFleet vessels, or repaired ships damaged in the course of duty... however, during this particular passage Archer saw something quite unexpected, displayed on the Bridge's main video monitor.

"Full stop," said Archer.

Ensign Mayweather, manning Helm, brought the ship to a halt.

"Tactical, bring up the starboard side of the shipyards," said Archer, glancing at Lt-Commander Reed.

Reed made some adjustments on his Tactical panel and zoomed in, bringing the starboard side of the shipyards onto the video monitor.

"Zoom in on the Columbia," said Archer.

A moment later, Reed zoomed in on Archer's designated target, and as the computer brought the ship into focus, a crystal clear view of the Columbia filled the entire video monitor.

"Look at her," said Archer, to no one in particular.

Malcolm had already noted the disruptor marks on the hull of the Columbia, as well as the plasma torpedo burn-through of D Deck.

"They got lucky there, Captain," said Malcolm. That hole in D Deck must have ruined the cargo bays, but it could have been much worse."

Archer nodded, and said, "Comm, hail the Columbia."

Ensign Sato did as ordered, and a moment later a man's image was displayed on the monitor, but from the man's uniform it was clear that he was one of the shipyard's engineers.

"At your service, Captain."

Archer nodded, and said, "I was calling for Captain Hernandez."

"The entire crew of the Columbia was given leave on Earth," said the engineer, "in celebration of their victory, as well as the necessity of getting the crew out from underfoot."

"Victory?" said Archer.

"The Columbia took out a Romulan Bird-of-Prey," said the engineer. "Still, that fight made for a lot of work for us here."

"Than don't waste time talking to me," said Archer. "Thanks."

* * *

"Are you certain that this will be all right, Commander Tucker?" said T'Fel, looking uncertainly at Trip as she strapped herself into one of the shuttle's passenger seats. "Surely we are imposing."

"And I say that you're not," said Trip. "Listen, Thanksgiving is a big holiday in the USA, a holiday which should be spent with family, and since your family is back on Vulcan, you have nowhere to go. What's more, my parents will be thrilled to meet you and Ayvok, and they already know the captain. Trust me, you'll have a good weekend with us."

"He's right, T'Fel," said Erika. "You'll all have fun with Trip's family. They're a bunch of oddballs, but they're good people just the same."

"Oddballs?" said Trip, turning on Erika.

"Well," said Erika, "Uncle Dean has a Doctorate in Philosophy, but he breeds exotic cats for a living."

"Well, it's hard to make a living with a philosophy degree," said Trip, "and he makes a killing in exotic cats."

"Well, how about your aunt Peg, a Nurse Practitioner who takes payment in arts, crafts and artisan foods," said Erika, "and if I recall correctly, your mother was on vision quest the last time I was there!"

"Your point?" said Trip, a grin on his face.

Erika laughed, and said, "Nothing. I have no point. In any case, I know for a fact that Ayvok will have a good time with Trip's dad."

"How can you be so certain of that fact, Captain?" said Ayvok.

"Trip's father retired from the U.S. Marine Corps as a three-star Lieutenant-General," said Erika. "You guys can talk weapons, tactics and strategy to your heart's content."

"Oh, that does sound enjoyable," said Ayvok, quite pleased at the prospect of talking shop with a fellow professional.

* * *

Paxton had just ended a Skype call with one of his lawyers, and looking at the time he realized he had to be elsewhere soon, so without further ado, Paxton grabbed his jacket and headed for the hotel's bank of elevators. After a brief wait, Paxton stepped into an elevator and pressed the appropriate button to convey him to the lobby, though the elevator paused briefly at the twentieth floor to board a passenger, a man in his mid-50s and wearing a decent suit, probably a doctor, or a lawyer, in Paxton's estimation.

The elevator began moving once more, but the newcomer reached over and pressed the stop button, halting the elevator between floors, and Paxton looked at the man curiously.

"You can't just stop the elevator like that," said Paxton. "It's between floors right now. You can't get off."

"I know that, Mr. Paxton."

"How do you know my name?" said Paxton. "Who are you?"

"My name is Harris, and I want a few moments of your time."

"I don't have any time to spare," said Paxton.

Paxton reached past Harris to press the lobby button once more and get the elevator moving, but Harris pushed Paxton backwards, roughly enough to make his point.

"Make time," said Harris.

"Fine," said Paxton, more annoyed than anything, for if the man wished him ill, he wouldn't waste time talking. "What do you want?"

"This little project you've got going," said Harris, "to isolate Earth from other species, it's coming at a bad time. These Romulans will not stop their attacks against Earth. At best they'll merely pause them while they finish off the Vulcans, and then they'll turn on us."

"You don't know that," said Paxton, "and what I do is none of your business."

"Actually it is my business," said Harris, "and I'm warning you to step back from this whole thing, and stop stirring the pot."

With his message delivered, Harris pressed the lobby button and the elevator began moving once more.

"And if I don't?" said Paxton.

Harris said nothing, though the man's smile troubled Paxton.

"You know you've passed a dozen cameras by now, right?" said Paxton.

"Every camera in the building is down at the moment," said Harris, "and its going to be hard to pull fingerprints given that I'm wearing gloves.

"Who's paying you?" said Paxton. "I'm a wealthy man, Harris. I can make it worth your while to work with me... for me."

"Do the smart thing here, Paxton, or my next message will be delivered in a more forceful manner."

Paxton paled a bit at that, for Harris' warning was clear.

* * *

Hours after they'd all reached the Tucker's house in Florida, T'Fel headed for the large garage at the back of the house with a glass of iced tea in hand, for although it was close to the end of November, this was Florida and the temperatures were still in the low 80s. She soon turned the corner of the building and peeked inside the large six car garage that was truly more a workshop than a garage, only to see Trip dressed in nothing but faded jeans draped over motorcycle boots, and the sight of the man's bare torso was an agreeable sight to T'Fel.

"Hey," said Trip, having noticed T'Fel peeking into the garage.

"Your mother made some iced tea," said T'Fel, passing the glass to Trip. "The label on the box named it Red Zinger tea. An herbal tea."

"Thanks," said Trip, after which he tasted the tea and nodded approvingly.

"You are welcome," said T'Fel, looking casually around the garage.

"Let me guess. All that trivial chatter at the hen party is driving you crazy," said Trip, for his mother, his sister Elizabeth, Erika and his cousin Bonnie were all chatting up a storm as he'd passed through the house earlier. "It's really not a Vulcan thing, is it?"

"No, it's not that," said T'Fel, eyes running over Trip's bare chest once more, "I was just curious to see what you are doing out here."

"Well, come see," said Trip, and led T'Fel inside the garage.

"That's my father's car, an antique Shelby Cobra," said Trip pointing out a glossy black car with aggressive curves to it's body work, "and that's my classic Ducati motorcycle."

"They are beautiful vehicles," said T'Fel.

"They run on gasoline, which is a niche product these days," said Trip, "but they have more soul than electric vehicles."

"What are you doing out here?" said T'Fel. "Do they need repairs?"

"No," said Trip, setting the tea aside in order to search for his keys. "I was getting ready to go down to the marina, take the boat out on the water for a while. You want to come with me?"

The idea of riding a motorcycle intrigued T'Fel for it was something which she'd never done before, but the thought of being out on the open ocean practically terrified the desert bred Vulcan, yet despite the fear, she never hesitated...

"Yes, I do. I would like that, Trip."

"Great," said Trip, while slipping a shirt over his head. "Let me have another sip of that tea, before we leave."

"Oh, yes," said T'Fel, and then reached for the glass which was well within her reach, and passed it to Trip once more.

"Thanks," said Trip, and after taking a drink he set the tea aside and laid hands on the Vulcan, drawing T'Fel to him, much to the Vulcan's surprise.

Since the recent night on which she'd first taught Commander Tucker a bit of the Vulcan language, they'd only had a chance to study together once more, and her plans to steal a kiss from Commander Tucker that night had been waylaid by the fact that her left calf was cramping, and painfully so.

"You just need to get a banana inside of you," had said Trip that night.

T'Fel chuckled in a typically understated Vulcan manner upon hearing that suggestion, then said, "If that means what I think it means, I do not believe that is a cure for cramps. But I applaud your willingness to consider unconventional treatments."

"No, I mean a real banana, T'Fel. You need some potassium," had said the XO, and he'd left her cabin only to return with two bananas, which he'd insisted she eat as he massaged her calves in a most enjoyable manner: perhaps things would have moved along, but something of an emergency had popped up and required Commander Tucker's attention, and thus ended the night prematurely.

"Oh!" said T'Fel, present in the now once more, and startled by the man's impulsive act of laying hands on her.

"It's a Thanksgiving tradition, T'Fel," said Trip. "Alien visitors must be properly welcomed and appreciated."

"That is a sensible tradition," said T'Fel, hyper-ventilating a touch. "We are standing quite close, XO."

"Are we?" said Trip, drawing T'Fel closer still, until their bodies pressed against each other.

"Yes," said T'Fel, and Trip saw her cheeks color. "I can feel the heat, that is to say, the warmth coming off your body."

"Nice and toasty, eh?" said Trip with a grin, as normal Vulcan body temperature hovered around 92 degrees.

"Yes," said T'Fel, looking up at Trip. "And your scent is quite agreeable, but I am—"

"Dying for a kiss?" said Trip, and then locked lips with T'Fel for a full ten minutes, before T'Fel managed to pry her lips from Trip's.

"Problem?" said Trip, for he was enjoying the kiss immensely.

"Thirsty," said T'Fel, and chugged the rest of the tea from Trip's glass, before returning to an even longer kiss.

Eventually they stepped apart when they heard Trip's father coming down to the garage, and soon afterwards Trip and T'Fel departed the house on Trip's motorcycle for a tour of the island on the way to marina… and for what it was worth, T'Fel found the motorcycle ride enjoyable, as she pressed herself tightly to Trip's back, out of necessity, and desire.

They followed the motorcycle ride with an exciting boat ride, T'Fel delighted beyond belief at the friendly dolphins and seals which swam alongside the boat for miles… better yet, the ocean did not frighten T'Fel in the least so long as Trip was by her side, and after the boat ride was over, they shared a bottle of sake on the beach as they watched the sun set, and the waves roll in, while the two talked for hours like the best of friends, until night fell.

* * *

"Morning, Trip," said Erika the next day, as Trip stumbled into the kitchen on Thanksgiving morning.

The house was quiet and Trip's eyes still half shut, as he and Erika were the first people to wake this morning.

"Morning, Princess," said Trip.

"Princess?!" said Erika, mustering up a healthy dose of faux outrage, for she'd been friends with Trip a long time, and the man had called her worse monikers than Princess in that time.

"Captain," said Trip, yawning now. "I meant Captain."

"I should think so," said Erika. "Princess indeed!"

"Why are you up so early?" said Trip. "I thought you captains liked to lay about 'till lunch."

"We do," said Erika, "but I promised your mom that I'd go shopping with her at a farmer's market, pick up the veggies for today's feast."

"Better you than me."

"What's your plan for the day?" said Erika.

"Does lounging around in my underwear all day count as a plan?" said Trip, stealing coffee from the pot which Erika had made a few minute earlier.

"No," said Erika, and just then T'Fel stepped into the kitchen, wearing an orange Vulcan robe made of imported Risan silk, and that Risan silk did nothing but flatter the Vulcan's figure.

"Good morning," said T'Fel.

"Morning," said Erika, and Trip grunted, for the man was useless before his first cup of coffee, though he found the strength make eye contact with the Vulcan, and give her an irreverent wink.

* * *

"Good morning, T'Pol," said Archer as the Vulcan walked into his Ready Room.

"Captain," said T'Pol, setting a coffee cup on the captain's desk, while retaining her own cup of tea.

Archer & T'Pol made it a habit to discuss ship's business during breakfast in order to get a jump start on the day ahead of them, but if either of them missed breakfast, they convened in the captain's Ready Room before taking the conn from the night shift. This morning they'd indeed missed breakfast, as the captain was trying to locate Captain Hernandez.

"Thank you, T'Pol."

T'Pol gave the man a slight nod and then moved past him to look out the window at the planet below, and said, "How is the day shaping up?"

Archer was about to reply to T'Pol's question, when the nightshift Comm officer reached out to the captain.

"Yes," said Archer.

"HQ had a contact number for Captain Hernandez, sir. Should I connect you?"

Archer debated the matter briefly as it was only 0730, but Erika had always been an early riser, so Archer said, "Please."

* * *

The comm line suddenly buzzed in the Tucker household, and given that most of the house was still asleep and Trip had shuffled outside to drink his coffee while watching the waves rolling in, well that just left Erika or T'Fel to answer the call.

The two women had been sharing a juicy Florida orange and chatting amiably when the call came, and given that Erika was the ranking officer, the Human pressed the remote and a 22" wall mounted monitor came to life, displaying Jon in his Ready Room, with T'Pol behind him, as the Vulcan stared out the port hole as if sagely contemplating the meaning of life.

"Morning, Jon," said Erika. "How are you?"

"I'm all right, Erika," said Jon, taking note of the lovely Vulcan seated next to Erika, and both seated in a kitchen that seemed vaguely familiar. "What happened to your comm unit? I tried calling, but got no answer, so I finally had to run you to ground through HQ."

"I lost my comm unit yesterday," said Erika. "HQ is sending me another by express post. I should have it later today."

"Oh, I see," said Archer. "Where are you?"

"I'm in Florida," said Erika, and with that she saw T'Pol turn round to look into the monitor as well. "Hi, T'Pol."

"Hello, Captain," said T'Pol, taking note of Erika, and the attractive Vulcan seated next to her.

"This is T'Fel," said Erika, by way of explanation, having noted T'Pol's glance. "She's temporarily assigned to the Columbia, until the Vulcan equipment we've installed during our upgrades is sorted out."

"So what are you two doing in Florida?" said Jon.

"Trip invited T'Fel, Ayvok and myself to spend the Thanksgiving holidays with his family," said Erika. "It was the best offer on the table, so we jumped at it."

Jon understood Erika's choice to go. They'd both been quests of Trip's family before, and Jon knew that Trip's family was great. Just then, Trip stepped into the kitchen to refill his coffee cup, and caught sight of Jon.

"Hey, Captain," said Trip, not seeing T'Pol, for the girl knew angles better than a pool shark and had stepped back into the shadows and off camera the moment that Trip had entered the room. "We strap the feedbag on at noon, and then again at 7pm, and then we'll be gorging for the rest of the weekend too. You and Malcolm should come."

"I wish I could, Trip," said Jon. "Your mom's a great cook, but Admiral Forrest is expecting T'Pol and I at his house for Thanksgiving feast, after which we're talking shop. I'll pass the invite on to Malcolm."

"Fair enough," said Trip. "Good talking to you."

With that Trip refilled his cup and ambled out onto the back patio to once more resume his commune with nature, while Jon continued chatting with Erika for a while, but T'Pol heard none of it. As soon as she'd seen Commander Tucker step into the kitchen, she'd pressed herself against the hull and outside the camera's view, her heart racing. The man's effect on her was becoming a damned nuisance.

Worse yet, Commander Tucker had pressed himself between Captain Hernandez and T'Fel in order to be seen by Jon, and he'd pressed his body against the captain's with a casual disregard that hinted at an overly familiar relationship with one's commanding officer… as for T'Fel, she hadn't even had the decency to draw her chair back when Commander Tucker pressed against her either. What the hell was going on aboard the Columbia?!

* * *

Thanksgiving dinner was everything the Vulcans had expected, for they'd done their proper research upon being invited here by the XO, and neither Vulcan was surprised when a fat, stuffed, deep fried and golden skinned avian was plopped right at the center of the table, though the Tuckers had been more than considerate enough to have a dozen or so vegetarian dishes for them all to share.

What happened next was breathtaking!

After a stirring speech which lasted all of twenty seconds, the elder Tucker performed the functional and ceremonial task of cutting that avian apart as the Humans passed their plates his way, and then the feast began in earnest. All together, there were nine Humans in attendance and under their concerted onslaughts that giant avian was speedily reduced to bones over the course of three hours, and at the end of it all, there were groans and moans in abundance, even as the tabletop took on the appearance of a disaster zone, littered with soiled and abandoned dishes.

"I have never seen anyone or anything tear an avian apart that quickly," said Ayvok, "and I have seen Klingons eat before."

The laughter which began with Trip swelled as all the Humans joined in, and the mighty roar lasted for all of ninety seconds, before the mass of food in in their bellies apparently demanded that the Humans spread about the house, laying down atop any horizontal surface, in order to allow the process of digestion to begin the work of assimilation.

"Rest up, and help yourselves to some antacids," said Trip's mother. "We eat again in four hours."

* * *

The following three days of leave were a wonder of sunshine, pleasant temperatures and lots of good fellowship for the crewmen of the Columbia, as well as a few dozen stolen moments between Trip and T'Fel.

It would be fair to say, thought T'Fel, that the XO's tongue has spent more time dancing in my mouth, than resting in his own, during this holiday. Not that I'm complaining.

All in all, it was a great Thanksgiving holiday for everyone, and it was a holiday during which Ayvok got kissed as well, for as the crewmen were readying to make their departure, Trip's sister, Elizabeth, planted a kiss on each of Ayvok's cheeks, cultural expectations be damned: but then Ayvok was a handsome devil, and Elizabeth had a logical excuse for her misdeed.

"For good luck against the Romulans, Ayvok," said Elizabeth, and Ayvok nodded agreeably.


	37. Chapter 37

— **Chapter 37 —**

* * *

It was a bright and sunny Monday morning when the shuttle ferrying Ayvok, Trip, T'Fel and Erika from Florida to San Francisco landed at the private spaceport nestled in StarFleet's HQ campus.

"All right," said Erika, rising out of her seat and stretching. "Here's where we split up. Ayvok, take this shuttle to the Iron Mountain shipyard and assume command of the Columbia. The crew has 'till Wednesday to report for duty, but they'll begin trickling in tonight, and all day tomorrow. Make sure the ship's still in once piece by the time I get there."

"Yes, Captain," said Ayvok.

"Trip, you and and I have a meeting in the Operations Building, 5th floor, conference room 47," said Erika, consulting her watch. "Precisely two hours from now."

"Aye, Captain. What's going on?" said Trip, as he'd spent the flight in sleep, while Erika had caught up on her correspondence and received her orders for this day.

"Just a mixed bag of Fleet business," said Erika, then looked at at T'Fel. "T'Fel, you're on your own for the next two days. Have fun."

"May I tag along with you and the XO, Captain?" said T'Fel. "You may find some use for me."

"Sure. I'm going to shower and change before the meeting. Ayvok, see you Wednesday," said Erika, then looked at Trip and T'Fel. "You two, see you in the conference room. Don't be late."

With that, the captain left the shuttle while Trip and T'Fel lingered to make small talk with Ayvok, as they went through the motions of disembarking. Comically, while Trip, Ayvok and the captain had just packed a single bag with a few sets of clothing for the Thanksgiving weekend, T'Fel had packed a full sized suitcase, and the Vulcan blushed as Trip wrestled that beast out of the storage space.

"I guess I should have brought a smaller bag," said T'Fel, clearly repentant, which made Trip laugh and Ayvok squint a bit in suppressed amusement.

"Don't be silly, T'Fel," said Trip, as he set the suitcase on the floor. "If our shuttle had crashed on a deserted island you'd be well dressed for the rest of your life."

Even T'Fel gave a slight chuckle at that thought as she took hold of her suitcase, then smartly extended the corner mounted handle and deployed the small wheels which would make transporting the suitcase a breeze.

"Nice touch," said Trip, then turned to Ayvok. "See you back on the ship, Ayvok."

"Yes," said Ayvok. "Once again, appreciation for hosting us this weekend. I had an enjoyable time with your family."

"I know," said Trip, looking darkly at Ayvok. "Elizabeth is crushing on you, and my dad wants to give me the boot, and adopt you."

Ayvok nodded in agreement with Trip's words, and said, "Elizabeth is clearly wise beyond her years, and your father is a shrewd man, XO. I am certain that his reasons for wishing to make the switch are perfectly logical."

Trip snorted at that, and gestured that T'Fel should lead the way out of the shuttle. Once outside, they made their way to the Dormitories building, for lack of any other destination at the moment.

"What do you want to do until the meeting?" said T'Fel, once they'd dropped their bags off in their rooms. "We have 82 minutes to kill."

"Let's hit a coffee shop," said Trip. "You can buy me a coffee, a cinnamon scone, and a red velvet cupcake."

"Very well," said T'Fel.

* * *

Even after coffee and some sweets, Trip and T'Fel reached the conference room in the Operations building with few minutes to spare. Conference room 47 was a mid-sized room, with a long table seating twenty people on each side, and those seats were filled by various StarFleet captains, a number of whom had brought along some lieutenants. Without the need for orders, Trip sought out Erika and stood behind her chair and a bit to her left, while T'Fel took a place against the wall, directly behind her captain and XO.

Even as Trip and T'Fel had entered the room, T'Pol's bright eyes sought them out, head swiveling as neatly as a falcon's to focus on Commander Tucker. She was standing behind Archer, and Archer was seated across the table from Captain Hernandez, so Trip made eye contact with Archer and gave the man a friendly enough nod, all things considered, and then, feeling T'Pol's fixed gaze, Trip looked at the Vulcan. T'Pol's face was properly composed, but her eyes were bright and alive and focused on him to a degree which would have been uncomfortable if he'd truly given a damn: he didn't. Accordingly, he raised a brow in imitation of T'Pol's habitual mannerism, and T'Pol's response was a slight sideways tilt of the head, as if she was asking a question.

Maybe a Vulcan knows what that the hell that look means, thought Trip, but I don't give a shit.

Just then Trip noticed T'Pol shift her gaze and bring that focus to bear on T'Fel, and with that he was done, and merely looked past T'Pol, allowing his mind to wander.

That red velvet cupcake was sooo good, thought Trip, but it would have been better with a coconut cream frosting, or maybe—

Just then Admiral Forrest stepped into the room and the man's arrival spared Trip from making any more culinary suppositions, for Forrest began the meeting without further ado. The next two hours or so were devoted to the latest intel briefings on Romulan movements in space, courtesy of Section 31, a rundown on the latest Romulan attacks on the space ships of the federation species as well as a discussion of their recent tactics. Afterwards, Forrest delivered a public commendation to Captain Hernandez and the crew of the Columbia for the destruction of a Romulan Bird-of-Prey, and then dismissed all captains, save for Archer and Hernandez.

The two captains were already seated close to Forrest's end of the table, due to their seniority, so it made for a cozy little meeting, when Forrest said, "Ok, before I send you on your way, tell me how you're doing on the crew transfers from the Enterprise to the Columbia. Any problems we need to hammer out?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Archer. "They're asking for our best people, Admiral. I can't spare them. Captain Hernandez and her XO will have to pick others."

"My XO assures me that the Enterprise can spare those people," said Erika. "None of us wants to strip Enterprise of her best people, but even so, this is a temporary reassignment, Admiral."

"I could see my way to agreeing to that swap," said Archer, ever the horse trader, "if you take Dillard, and give me back my Chief Engineer. I want Commander Tucker back on my ship."

Well that request got Erika's hackles up, in no time at all.

"You're not taking my XO, Captain," said Erika. "No deal!"

"That's for the Admiral to decide," said Jon, a grin on his face, as he'd known Erika long enough to recognize her anger, suppressed though it was.

"Listen and understand—" said Erika, slapping her hand on the table and leaning forwards to make her point, then stopped her intended tirade in mid-stream when Trip placed his hand on the captain's shoulder and gently drew Captain Hernandez back a few inches to rest her back against the chair, and just like that, Jon's mood soured…

That a subordinate should touch a superior in public was a rare thing indeed, and suggested a very close relationship… at the very least. Not necessarily a sexual relationship, though that was Jon's first instinct, but quite intimate. And it was bullshit!

Trip, you son of a bitch, thought Archer, if you've involved yourself with Erika as payback for T'Pol, I'm going to beat the stuffing out of you!

"You're not taking my XO," said Erika, seemingly as cool as a cucumber now, a smug look of satisfaction on her face at recognizing Jon's jealousy written plainly on his face. "He's the best subordinate officer I've ever had."

"And you're keeping him," said Forrest. "Trip's one of the senior officers on the first deep space ship we've fielded. He's not going back to Engineering, now that he's on track for command. Forget about him, Jon."

"Yes, sir," said Archer, looking at Trip now, but the man wouldn't even meet his eyes and that just confirmed Archer's initial thoughts.

"And for God's sake," said Forrest, "Tucker take a seat, and you as well, young lady. T'Fel, right?"

"Yes, Admiral," said T'Fel, and by the time she'd walked up the to table, Trip had taken a seat to Erika's left, and so T'Fel took a seat to Trip's left, from where T'Fel looked towards Forrest even as she felt T'Pol's blatant and intense scrutiny: how rude!

For her part, T'Pol felt nothing short of a cold irritation as she stared at T'Fel, and that was understandable, for she'd come to see clearly by now that she and Commander Tucker were Bonded mates! And this… this interloper deserved no courtesy for intervening between Bonded mates!

Even modern Vulcans, logical Vulcans, disciplined Vulcans, would understand T'Pol's emotions now, and forgive them, for nowhere did the Old Vulcan blood surge as strongly as between mated and Bonded couples. And this T'Fel was an interloper, that much was clear to T'Pol's sharp senses as she inhaled T'Fel's scent, mingled with that of her mate, and though it was conceivable that they'd simply been forced together in tight quarters, that explanation was lacking, given their body language, subtle though it was.

Trip suddenly turned his head and looked sharply at T'Pol, and something about the man's glance threw T'Pol off balance, and dispelled her agitation. She sensed a whisper of Trip's thoughts and emotions, just a hint of them, and the contents of that whisper was distressing, for T'Pol hesitated to displease her mate once more.

Forrest kept speaking of important things and that diverted them all for a while, though T'Pol could not help but steal surreptitious glances back and Trip and T'Fel, her stomach sinking with each passing moment. When Trip's pen ran out of ink as the man was taking notes, he sighed in frustration, but just then T'Fel slipped her pen to the XO, her fingers all but caressing his as he accepted the pen, at least to T'Pol's eyes… and then, there was the matter of T'Fel's body language. It was subtly revealing of her inner state, for her body faced Commander Tucker much more so than Admiral Forrest, and given that particular seating position, T'Pol guessed that T'Fel's right leg was tossed over the left, rather than flat on the floor, and thus much closer to Commander Tucker. But at last, Forrest wound down the meeting and left the room, and Archer immediately asked to speak with Erika privately.

"With your permission, Captain," said Trip, looking at Captain Hernandez, "I'll take my leave."

Erika nodded, and T'Pol saw Trip heading for the door, that damnable T'Fel next to him, speaking about something which Forrest had said, and T'Pol watched them go in frustration. She'd need to speak with Commander Tucker, but not just yet. She had no idea how he'd take to being Bonded to a Vulcan, and she had to present that fact to him in a proper light.

* * *

"What the hell's going on with you and Trip?" said Archer.

"What do you mean?" said Erika.

"Are you guys sleeping together?" said Archer.

"That's really none of your business, Jon," said Erika. "We're on again, off again, every other month. You can't make up your mind if you want me, or not, so why don't you tone it down a bit."

"If you're doing something with Trip, that's against regulations," said Jon, reaching for straws.

Erika laughed at that, and said, "Are you serious? I have no idea what you did to make Trip leave the Enterprise, but it must have been a doozy, given how far you two go back. He's kept his mouth shut 'till now, but maybe I'll order him to tell me. I'm just guessing here, but he's been crushing on T'Pol for two years now, and from what I saw in the conference room, he can't even stand to look at her now… or you. You want to talk about that, Jon?"

Jon paled a bit at that, as did T'Pol, and Erika nodded, then said, "That's what I thought, Jon. Until you're interested in something more than casual sex with me, please stay out of my business. It was nice seeing you both, but I have to go now."

And with that Erika turned and left Jon behind, as the man was too flabbergasted to say a single thing at the present moment.

* * *

That evening, T'Pol had herself transported to the ground floor of the Dormitories building, where she knew that Commander Tucker would be staying until his return to the Columbia, and she approached the information desk in the lobby.

"How may I assist you, sir?" said a young StarFleet cadet, once T'Pol had shown the man her StarFleet ID.

"I need a room number for Commander Tucker," said T'Pol.

"One moment, please," said the cadet, and typed the commander's name into the computer.

Twenty seconds passed and T'Pol wondered at the delay: she'd made a simple request.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the cadet. "I've looked twice. I don't have a Commander Tucker registered at the moment. He's checked out. That's T-U-C-K-E-R, no?"

"Yes, that's correct," said T'Pol, then had a second thought. "What about a Vulcan named T'Fel?"

"She's checked out as well," said the cadet a few moments later. "They both checked out at 1400 hours."

"Thank you," said T'Pol.

T'Pol had herself transported back to the Enterprise, and from the privacy of the Ready Room, she had the Comm officer place a call to the Columbia, which was a trivial matter since both ships were in-system. A moment later a Vulcan male answered the call.

"Since you are calling from the Enterprise," said the Vulcan, "I will assume that you are T'Pol. I am Ayvok."

"Greetings, Ayvok."

Ayvok nodded, and said, "May I be of service to you, T'Pol?"

"I am trying to reach Commander Tucker."

"He is not here," said Ayvok, "and he is not scheduled to return until Wednesday morning."

"You are certain of that?" said T'Pol.

"I spoke with the man just twenty minutes ago," said Ayvok.

"Did he mention his whereabouts?" said T'Pol. "He is not staying in StarFleet's Dormitories building."

"No, T'Pol," said Ayvok. "He did not."

"I have heard another of our people serves aboard the Columbia," said T'Pol. "T'Fel, I believe. Is she there now?"

"No," said Ayvok.

"Do you know her whereabouts?" said T'Pol.

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Ayvok. "She is with Commander Tucker."


	38. Chapter 38

— **Chapter 38 —**

* * *

"Good day, sir," said the clerk working the front desk at Inn Above Tide, a small 31 room boutique hotel in San Francisco, with grand views of San Francisco Bay and the city skyline, and along with all that, the hotel's waterfront location meant easy access to eateries, shops and some upscale bars, to tie things off with a neat ribbon.

"Hi," said Trip, a gym bag tossed over his left shoulder, even as that same hand pulled a wheeled suitcase behind him. "I'd like a room until Wednesday morning, please."

"Certainly, sir," said the clerk. "I'll need an ID, please."

A few moments of back and forth as Trip's ID was passed, after which Trip slid his credit card towards the clerk.

"You did not inquire about our prices, sir," said the clerk.

"Listen, I don't care what price you're charging," said Trip, with a lopsided grin. "I need a room, and I'm going to have a room, so run my credit card and I'll cry over it another day."

"Ah," said the clerk with an amused smile, for he was a man of the world. "No more need be said about the matter. Tell you what, sir. One of our guests had to cancel his stay at the last moment, and I have a wonderful premium suite for you, for the price of a standard room."

"Much obliged," said Trip.

"A pleasure, sir," said the clerk. "My name is James, and I'm the manager here. Please don't hesitate to call on me if you and your guest need anything."

"Thank you, James," said Trip with a nod and a perverted grin: James was a good man, and James knew that Trip hadn't booked a stay here to play Solitaire.

A few minutes later Trip tipped the bellhop who'd carried his gym bag and dragged T'Fel's suitcase to the suite, and then Trip checked out the place. Premium indeed. A beautiful living room in a modern decor, huge bathroom with an indoor jacuzzi bath, king sized bed/playpen, a beautiful deck outside with some premium teak furniture, and a great view of the Bay. Nice! Very nice!

It was twenty minutes later that a knock at the door caught Trip's attention, and he opened the door for T'Fel.

"Did you get it?" said Trip.

"Yes," said T'Fel. "A chocolate cake from Just Deserts. I have it. I still do not understand why we could not simply order something sweet from room service."

"You'll understand when you taste it," said Trip. "It's THAT good."

"If you say so," said T'Fel, after which the Vulcan looked shyly around the suite.

Trip watched her silently, captivated by the woman's slightest movements. She was so different from every other Vulcan he'd met, certainly much different than T'Pol, but really, it's not like there was a rulebook of Vulcan behavior which mandated a sober demeanor… or perhaps there was, but no one had provided T'Fel with her own copy of that book. Even her Vulcan uniform differed from the norm on close inspection, for she'd had her gray uniform embroidered with some pretty floral designs in a thread just a bit darker than her uniform, and so not noticeable at first, and quite discreet, but still there.

T'Fel turned then, looked at Trip, and something about her expression made Trip grin. She was just so damned adorable!

And just like that, the Vulcan who had accepted Trip's suggestion that they find a nice hotel room in which to 'hunker down 'till Wednesday morning', and had seemingly accepted it quite casually, disappeared for a bit, behind lowered lashes and a furious blush... but then, T'Fel defied expectations once more, and spun round, touched her neck.

"My neck is sore, Trip," said T'Fel. "Right here."

Trip took the hint, slid the uniform's zipper from the neck all the way down to T'Fel's shapely buttocks, and once unsheathed Trip realized that they were truly magnificent buttocks. He bent a bit, to kiss T'Fel's neck, and just then a knock at the door disrupted Trip's nefarious plans for T'Fel.

"What now?" said Trip, with more than a touch of irritation: he was dismantling an explosive package here!

A moment later he had his answer though, as he looked at one of the hotel's staff, the man holding two glasses and a bucket of ice which contained two bottles of champagne.

"James sends his compliments, sir," said the man. "He believes you'll find this vintage champagne quite outstanding."

Trip fished out a $20 bill and tucked it in the man's shirt, and said, "I'll personally thank James for this gesture later, but give him my regards for now."

"I will do so, sir," said the man, and passed Trip his cargo, since this guest did not seem inclined to give him access to the room in order that he might set down the booze.

"A nice surprise," said Trip, turning round, but there was no sight of T'Fel.

"They have a jacuzzi tub!" said T'Fel, her voice faint.

"Yes," said Trip, heading directly for the bathroom with the champagne. "Yes, they do. Let's try it out."

As it turned out, taking a hot bath with a Vulcan was a great deal more fun than debating the merits of logic over emotion, and while they were still in the process of emptying that first bottle of champagne, T'Fel, who was unaccustomed to alcohol, was being silly now and playing with the turtle shaped sponge which was provided by the hotel, while she enjoyed a neck massage, courtesy of Commander Tucker.

Eventually though, the massage was over, and it was time for her to repay the commander's kindness, and she began her repayment plan with a series of kisses which were much appreciated, even as Trip ran his hands over T'Fel's body: and just then his comm unit beeped. Normally he'd have ignored such summons, but with the Romulans out and about that wasn't an option, for God knew what sort of mischief they were mixed up in, so Trip took the call, while T'Fel alternated between kissing his neck and nibbling on his ear lobes and neck.

"Tucker here," said Trip.

"Hey, Trip," said Erika. "Where are you?"

"Just exploring Frisco," said Trip, breathing in deeply as T'Fel found a sweet spot to nibble on his earlobe. "Something come up?"

"Don't call it Frisco. The natives hate it," said Erika. "Anyway, I was just wondering if you're staying out of mischief."

"I'm being good, I swear," said Trip, followed by a purposely subdued sigh as T'Fel kept working that sweet spot on his ear lobe.

"Mmmm, hmmm," said Erika. "Where's T'Fel?"

"How the hell would I know, Captain?" said Trip. "I'm not a baby sitter!"

"Mmmm, hmmm," said Erika. "Just be nice to her, Trip. T'Fel is a sweet girl."

Trip chuckled at that: Erika was nobody's fool.

'Is that an order, Captain?"

"It is," said Erika, and with that the captain ended the call.

Trip laid his comm unit aside, to put all hands on T'Fel once more.

"Does the captain have orders for us?" said T'Fel, before kissing Trip's neck and chin, in service of which Trip raised his chin to give T'Fel easier access to her target: that was Trip, always a Southern gentleman.

"Not us, just me," said Trip. "She's ordered me to be nice to you."

Intent on obeying orders, Trip filled his mouth with one perfect breast, and then the other, all while his hands glided over T'Fel, and then within her, which soon wrenched a soft moan and then some whimpers from T'Fel, and finally the sweet Vulcan could take no more.

"Well, it seems that you have your orders, Commander Tucker," said T'Fel, standing in the tub and then positioning herself gracefully on the tub's rim, in order to straddle Trip's face, "so do it. Be nice to me."

Now, if bathing with a Vulcan was the cat's meow, repeatedly 'mating' with this Vulcan on a king sized bed was even better, and the two lovers spent the next thirty-six hours doing just that, with only a few brief interruptions to nap, dash out for food and drink to refuel their bodies, and do a bit of shopping as well, because Vulcan though she was, T'Fel was still a female, and shopping held the same ritual importance in her psyche that a hunt with a band of brothers at one's side, held in the minds of men.

* * *

Back aboard the Columbia on Wednesday morning, Trip accessed his computer terminal to get an overview of the day's schedule and he noted that he had a message from T'Pol. He'd simply deleted her previous messages unread, but apparently he was in a masochistic mood this morning, for he opened the Vulcan's message. It read:

.

Trip,

I do not know if you will read this message, or not, but I will send it anyway. If nothing else, it will at least help me clarify my own thought process, for I have been doing nothing but thinking about us since you left the Enterprise. The thoughts I lingered on last night, in no particular order, before I finally fell asleep, were these:

How did things get so bad between us? Somehow, things got away from me, Trip, and I lost control of myself, and I lost control of the situation at hand, and I still struggle to make sense of it all, for my actions have brought us all misery, unintended though that was. I write you not to make excuses, but to shed light on what happened, and hope that you might one day, find it in your heart to move past this.

The first thing you must understand is that I asked for none of this, and though I have made a number of bad decisions, I asked for none of it.

The second thing I ask you to understand, is that this was my first pon'farr. I say this not to excuse my actions, but to tell you that I was truly unprepared for the raw, primal urges, which surfaced in my psyche, urges which I was in no way prepared to control, for such things truly are beyond the control of the majority of Vulcans. In my inexperience I was arrogant enough to believe that I could control these urges to a greater degree than was apparently possible, and that arrogance was the first domino to fall and in doing so, initiate an entire chain of events and choices on my behalf.

Next, I ask you to consider my mindset at the onset of pon'farr. You know that I have severed my engagement to Koss last year, the mate selected for me by my clan, and I have not sought out another, and thus, this unintended pon'farr caught me flat footed and unprepared for any of this.

I will tell you that you were first in my mind when Phlox diagnosed my condition, and things would have run much smoother had external events not taken you off the Enterprise at that point in time and kept you off the ship for too long, for I can truly tell you that if given a choice beforehand, it would have been you, and only you, Trip.

And so I suffered that first month, Trip, suffered waiting for you to return, and hanging on only by my fingernails at times, but hang on I did. It was only when your assignment was extended for a second month that I lost both, hope and control.

And it was here that the arrogance of which I've spoken of earlier, of believing that I had greater control of my instincts than was actually the case, came to 'bite me on the ass' as you Humans would say, for had I spoken with my people, I could have gotten myself reassigned to the T'Lek Sor and mated with you that first month. My people would not have liked it, Trip, but they would not have denied us, for the Bond is sacred among my people, but in my certainty that I could restrain myself long enough for you to return, I did not factor in the unpredictable, and so, it was only when your stay was extended that I realized the mistake I'd made, for it was too late to make arrangements with my people, too late for me to exercise any control for the journey from the Enterprise to the T'Lek Sor. In short, I was done, and I had to seek relief from the captain.

Now given the ending of my last sentence, I can hear you asking: if I simply needed someone to tide me over 'till your return, Archer should have been enough. Why add Reed? I do not mean to cast aspersions on the captain, for his understanding and his tact were appreciated, but his personality, and his sexual proclivities were not a proper match for a Vulcan gripped by the aftershocks of the pon'farr, Trip. I don't mean to dwell on this, but the man was too restrained, too measured and too passive to be an acceptable mate during this time period, and though he did provide some relief, it was simply not enough. Reed was a better match for me physically, though not mentally, or emotionally.

Now I will tell you that I greeted your return to the Enterprise with great inward delight, as you were the one I'd originally had in mind the moment that Phlox told me what was happening with me… Now I imagine you wonder, if I was truly waiting for you, and eager for your return, why did I not immediately sever my sexual contact with Archer and Reed, and here I will tell you that I screwed up, Trip. I was driven by a hormonal rush during this time, which was given to excess, and I allowed myself to get carried away by the pleasure.

Having said that, and having told you that I desire you, and you alone, I can imagine that you think me a liar, Trip, but that's not so. I swear it, Trip, you were the one. As proof of that I offer the fact that I had already cut the captain out by the time this all came to light, and I had planned to do the same with the lieutenant even as all this blew up in my face.

My previous paragraph naturally raises another question… if I had truly developed such a strong preference for you, and found such satisfaction in our coupling, why did I continue mating with Reed, even after I had dropped Archer, and the truth here is that I wished to approach you and discuss formalizing our relationship, but you never showed any such inclination, Trip, and I was concerned. Concerned that you might tire of me, concerned that you might drop me, concerned that I would be left in need, without a way out. I only wished for some type of sign from you that you were as drawn to me, as I was drawn to you, Trip, and that sign never came.

Now, I did not contact you to make excuses, Trip, and I suppose you will simply delete this message unread, as all the rest, so I suppose that this will simply remain a mechanism through which I might put everything in perspective. If you should read this, I do not expect you to forgive me, but I hope you will at least consider it someday.

T'Pol

.

* * *

Having read the email, Trip immediately regretted having done so. He didn't hate T'Pol, but neither did he feel anything for her at the moment. He just didn't care, so he deleted the message and moved on with his life… T'Pol later noted that the message's status was Delivered. Read. Deleted., and oddly enough, that satisfied T'Pol for that night, for unlike her previous emails, he'd at least read this one.


	39. Chapter 39

— **Chapter 39 —**

* * *

"Commander," said Lieutenant Talas, without taking her eyes off her Tactical console. "I have a Romulan warp signature."

"Show me," said Shran, gesturing towards the large video monitor mounted on the Kumari's Bridge.

The Kumari made a slight change in heading as Helm altered course in obedience to Talas's orders, and then starfield view was quickly overlaid with an Andorian star map which displayed both, the Kumari's location as well as the location of the Romulan warp signature, even as an extensive amount of sensor data scrolled up along the right side of the monitor.

"That's quite a distance, Lieutenant," said Shran, and despite the fact that Andorian sensors were the best, exceeding even Vulcan sensor efficiency by some 15%, this wasn't right. "Even with the modifications we've done to our sensors in accordance with StarFleet's recommendations, we've never penetrated Romulan cloaks from this range. It must be a fluke."

"No, Commander," said Talas. "That's just it, the Romulan ship is uncloaked. It must be a trap."

Shran looked shrewdly, at the starmap, and said, "They're heading for the Lisli Nebula, Lieutenant. They seek shelter… concealment."

Talas considered the commander's words: the Lisli Nebula was a cloud nebula, some fifty lightyears long, five to eight lightyears across depending on the particular coordinates, and it would provide complete protection against visual detection, and partial protection against sensors to a high degree, due to the diffractive properties of the dense clouds.

"Or perhaps they're purposely trying to draw us in, Commander," said Talas.

"Even so, Talas. Warships are not built to remain in safe harbor," said Shran, "and Imperial Guards rarely die of old age."

"Aye, Commander," said Talas.

"You know their sensor range, Lieutenant," said Shran, for this information had come into the hands of the alliance due to the Romulan ship towed to Andoria on Shran's orders weeks earlier. "Close with the Romulans, but stay outside their sensor range until I give the order."

"Yes, Commander," said Talas.

* * *

T'Pol sighed even as she entered her quarters, stripped off her uniform and showered then stretched out on her bunk for a cat nap. She woke after a bit, disoriented, for she was uncertain how long she'd slept, then made sense of it all when she turned her head to consult her alarm clock. She'd only slept an hour.

She closed her eyes as she felt her body's desires grow, but this evening she had no desire to seek out assistance from either Archer or Reed, and though she could not keep her hands from wandering her body and acting of their own accord, neither could she keep her mind from wandering across a panorama of erotic sights and acts, all of which involved her mate, and as a result, her climax was not long in coming… yet after it had passed T'Pol felt only disappointment, for where Trip was concerned, imagination was nowhere as close to satisfying as real flesh and blood.

She wondered then just where Trip was at that moment, and wondered at what he was doing, and T'Pol hoped desperately that he was doing nothing with T'Fel, for the vibes she'd received from watching Trip and T'Fel's interactions were not comforting… still, Trip and T'Fel were not Bonded, and so long as she had that edge, all would fall in place... in time.

* * *

The huge Romulan Warbird entered the Klingon Empire at Gamma Eridon, and immediately picked up an escort of four K't'inga class Klingon combat cruisers, and together, the five ships set course for the Klingon homeworld, Qo'noS, for the Romulan intrusion into Klingon space had been expected and arranged through sub-space transmission, some two weeks earlier.

Aboard that Romulan Warbird was Ambassador D'Hiovel, a man well versed in Klingon psychology, history and politics and he paid visit to Qo'noS with but one purpose in mind: to secure an agreement of neutrality from the Klingons, so that the Romulan Star Empire might unleash their fleets against the fledgling federation of species which had come together in the face of Romulan aggression... the formation of that fledgling federation had been an unexpected development, and one which needed to be aborted in its infancy, and D'Hiovel's mission to Qo'noS was a step in that direction.

And as things stood, the proposal which D'Hiovel carried to the Klingons directly from the Consul and the Senate of the Star Empire provided ample incentives for the Klingons to agree with Romulan request. There were only upsides for the Klingons in this deal, and to profit they needed to do nothing more than remain within their own borders… little enough to ask of them, and though the Star Empire would have to make some concessions to the Klingons in return for keeping their end of that bargain, the Star Empire would gain much more in conquering Vulcan and Earth as an opening move to expanding their empire in the Alpha Quadrant at large, for the Andorians would be next, and then the Denobulans, and so on, and so on...

The Andorians were the troubling piece of the puzzle though, as the Orions knew them well and feared the blue-skins more than the Klingons, and that was saying something… Moreso, the Andorians would have to be crushed by open military might as they could not be easily infiltrated, nor was their planet anywhere close to hospitable enough to allow Imperial Marines and Shrikes to operate and work their preparatory softening up services… No matter, the Andorians would negotiate, or they would be broken in their turn.

Better yet, if those things which the Consul and Senate had heard of the Andorians were true, it may be that they might accept sallot'ur status within the Romulan Star Empire, a status of high distinction which would allow the Andorians to retain control of their borders after making a token submission to the Consul, and afterwards the Andorian fleets could join the Romulan in crushing the Klingons, for the spoils there would be vast enough to repay the Andorians quite generously for their loyalty, while still retaining the lion's share of the Klingon Empire for the Star Empire. All that might come about quite soon, if D'Hiovel could bring these Klingons, these barbarians, to heel for a brief time.

* * *

The Kumari had closed with the Romulans and was shadowing their ship for the past hour, staying just outside its sensor range of 4 million kilometers, and in the process, the Kumari had learned a few things. First of all, the Romulan ship's cloaking field was malfunctioning for some reason and the Romulans were clearly working on in, for there were periodic efforts to restore it, efforts which had failed so far, even as the Romulan ship moved into the nebula at Warp 3.

"We will make our move soon," said Shran, looking at Lt. Talas. "We can not risk the Romulans reestablishing their cloaking field and fucking happily off into the sunset."

"Yes, Commander," said Talas, bright eyed, for the closeness of combat had erased her earlier doubts: Shran had made his choice, and the die was cast… now was the time to turn thought to victory, and so every Guard was at their station, waiting for Shran's command to initiate the attack.

"Now!" said Shran.

The Bridge crew of the Kumari was composed of veteran Guards and this type of attack was their bread and butter, perfected over hundreds of attacks on Orion ships, and Vulcan.

The Helmsman of the Kumari increased speed to Warp 4.5 for thirteen seconds then dropped down to Warp 3, matching speed with the Romulan ship, even as the Kumari's five particle cannon batteries opened fire, raking Romulan's shields in passing, for the Romulans had detected the Andorians during their thirteen second breach of their sensor range during their approach, and raised shields.

Here's where the Andorians received an unexpected surprise, for neither Vulcans nor the Orions had ever fought in this manner, as the Romulan ship turned over while matching speed and heading with the Kumari, Romulan shields pressing against Andorian shields powerfully enough to cause a short, and at that moment, 4 metal pods were ejected by the Romulan ship, only to slam into the Kumari.

Shran's first impulse was to cringe, for he thought they were explosive devices, but at this range, an explosion and the shrapnel caused by an explosion would have taken out the Romulan ship as well, and the Romulans knew that much apparently. Shran's second impulse was to curse aloud, for reports began coming in from other sections of the Kumari, warning of boarding parties.

"Break contact!" said Shran. "Lose the Romulan ship."

"Yes, Commander," said the Helm officer.

The Andorian ship peeled off then, with the Romulan ship now in pursuit, but here the Andorians had a top end speed advantage and left the Romulans in the stellar dust. That didn't mean their problems were over, as those airtight pods which had struck the hull of the Kumari and then burned through the ship's hull, disgorged a total of twenty-four nasty, bat faced aliens, and those bastards were a nasty surprise. Armed with a combination of disruptors and melee weapons these intruders moved through the ship in search of Engineering in order to scuttle the ship, and they were vicious combatants, but the fact that they were attacking Imperial Guards waiting for them behind hard cover at pre-selected choke points, meant that their efforts, and their lives, came to an end eventually... still, they'd been no joke, and they'd taken a number of Guards with them.

"Commander," said Ifratt, speaking into his comm unit as that Imperial Guard looked down at the body of one of barely still living intruders, as that creature bled out. "We got them all, but we lost six Guards in the process."

"See that our fallen are honorably treated," said Shran, "then jettison the bodies of those intruders. Put one of their corpses on ice for our medical teams to examine, but get the rest of that garbage off my ship."

"Yes, Commander," said Ifratt, slamming his boot on the still moving alien and crushing his skull in the process.

* * *

The chime to T'Fel's cabin sounded, and T'Fel croaked, "Come in!"

Trip entered T'Fel's cabin with a thermos of hot tea and two cups in hand, and his eyes widened on seeing T'Fel, after which Trip began laughing.

"I know," said T'Fel in a hoarse voice, "I look hideous! I am a monster! An alien Medusa!"

"No, no, don't be silly," said Trip, still amused at the sight of T'Fel, long hair matted, eyes bleary, puffy faced, and bundled in a thick comforter, even though the heat in the cabin was set to 78 degrees. "You look great."

"Liar!" said T'Fel, clearly dismissive of Trip's comforting words.

"So what's wrong with you?" said Trip.

"The Risan flu," said T'Fel. "Ayvok had it last week, but that man just brushed it off. In my case, this cursed virus will bury me!"

"I won't believe that! I can't," said Trip, quite melodramatically. "Anyway, you're all bundled up. Why don't you crank the heat up if you're cold?"

"I was hoping you would stop by to check up on me," said T'Fel, after which she coughed a fit for the next ten seconds. "I missed you."

"Really?" said Trip. "You were hoping to see me?"

"Of course," said T'Fel. "What do you think that I am, some kind of sick animal without any feelings?"

Trip laughed at that, and said, "No, no, you're not a sick animal, T'Fel. But you were saying... about the heat?"

"I know you don't like to be hot," said T'Fel, "and I wanted you to be comfortable too."

"I see. Poor baby," said Trip, bending a bit in order to kiss the top of T'Fel's head, after which he coaxed the Vulcan out of her comforter in order to give her a twenty minute neck and shoulder massage, after which he bundled her up once more, and poured the Vulcan some hot tea.

"Ceylon tea with a dash of cardamom?" said T'Fel, hoping for it: Trip had introduced her to his favorite tea, and she'd found it quite tasty.

"Yes," said Trip passing the Vulcan a cup. "Here, be careful."

"Thank you," said T'Fel, her voice sounding quite comical due to a hellish case of congestion. "That massage was very nice. I feel much better."

"Ok than, I'm out of here," said Trip, but T'Fel's slender leg shot out from her comforter with the speed of a striking cobra, in order to keep him trapped in her bed, and Trip caressed the Vulcan's calf in an effort to soothe his Vulcan lover. "T'Fel, I have a card game to—"

"Have you truly tired of me that quickly, Commander Tucker? Is that what you are saying?" said T'Fel, her voice raspy. "I could die of this cursed virus, and you just do not care in the least!"

Trip laughed at the Vulcan's melodramatic stance, and despite the Vulcan's protests of sickness, Trip leaned in and gave her some sugar.

"I was just teasing you, T'Fel," said Trip. "I have nowhere else to be right now."

"Good," said T'Fel, mollified now, "but I hope you find those kisses worthwhile when you come down with this Risan flu. You will regret it then, and hold me responsible!"

"Actually, Phlox tells me that Humans are not susceptible to the Risan flu," said Trip, beginning to strip out of his coverall uniform.

"What do you think that you are doing?" said T'Fel, looking speculatively at Trip, as the two made eye contact.

"I'm about to administer a cure for the Risan flu," said Trip. "Don't you want the cure, T'Fel?"

T'Fel tilted her head at an angle, as if trying to figure out if Trip was speaking serious, or not, then said, "If you are willing to administer this 'cure' to a sweaty, repulsive looking Vulcan, well, than you are made of sterner stuff than I had imagined."

Trip smirked, and said, "I'm a man of steel, T'Fel. Understand that fact about me now."

"Well, have at it than," said T'Fel.

With that invitation, Trip crawled in bed with T'Fel, wrapping arms around the chilled Vulcan, but despite the man's bravado the two soon fell asleep without the benefit of any slap and tickle. T'Fel draped herself atop Trip for the entire night, purposely robbing the man of his warmth even as she wheezed and hacked like an angry wolverine, though to T'Fel's chagrin none of that seemed to disturb Trip's sleep. Yet when she woke the next morning, alone in her bed, T'Fel was pleased to note that she felt much better: perhaps the man truly had the magical power to cure the Risan flu, or perhaps merely sleeping with Trip was enough to cure any illness. Either way, the man was clearly a powerful talisman of health!


	40. Chapter 40

— **Chapter 40 —**

* * *

The Romulan ambassador, D'Hiovel, entered the chambers of the Klingon High Council accompanied by six Romulan bodyguards. Of course the guards were purely ceremonial here, given that the Romulans were on the Klingon home world, and so D'Hiovel lived at the pleasure of the High Council… of course, killing D'Hiovel and his guard would be an act of madness, and if the Klingons were that far gone, well, perhaps the Star Empire might postpone their campaign in the Alpha Sector in order to bring the Klingons to heel.

But the Klingons knew that there was no gain, or honor, in killing these seven Romulans on Qo'noS, for they'd dealt with the Romulans for 1,700 years now, since shortly after the Vulcan sundering, and the two species, Klingon and Romulan, both aggressive, both territorial, had clashed many times in the course of that time, and thus viewed each other with the mutual respect befitting two top tier predators in close proximity.

And for all that the Klingons were generally viewed as violent barbarians by just about every other species whose path they crossed, they were not fools, and they'd conducted a complete genetic analysis on the Romulan corpses in their keeping, and so the Klingons had long been aware that the Romulans and Vulcans were essentially one and the same, genetically speaking… perhaps that explained the reason why the Klingons rarely clashed with Vulcans: they had their hands full with the Romulans, and saw no need to antagonize the Vulcans, and in doing so rouse a relatively benign branch of the Vulcanoid species to 'illogical' actions.

And for his part, D'Hiovel was well acquainted with Klingons and respected them as such, so the proposal which the Romulan ambassador presented to the Klingon High Council was presented with a proper brevity. He, D'Hiovel, on behalf of the Consul and Senate of the Romulan Star Empire proposed a neutrality treaty with the Klingon Empire, and as consideration for a successful outcome to that end, the Star Empire offered up a strip of border territory, some twenty lightyears wide and one hundred lightyears long, which contained three planets notably rich in minerals, planets that had been bitterly contested between them in years past.

With offer made, D'Hiovel bid farewell, for he was familiar with the political process of the Klingon Empire, and he was well aware that the deliberative process would take weeks or months, as all the Great Houses need be consulted, after which a period of additional time would be consumed by the Great Houses jockeying for position to profit from this treaty with the Star Empire.

* * *

"Soval," said Admiral Forrest, coming round his desk to personally greet the Vulcan ambassador, only recently returned to part-time duty. "It's so good to see you again!"

"Thank you," said Soval, knowing Forrest's words were genuine, for the two had known each other for years. "It is good to be back."

Forrest guided Soval to the west side of his office, and watched as Soval seated himself stiffly on a couch.

"I hope your security detail is up to snuff this time," said Forrest, once Soval had settled in. "Those damned Romulans are a force of nature."

"I am remaining on the battlecruiser Ivok, orbiting Earth, during my visit here," said Soval, "and transporting down only as needed, thus robbing the Romulans of the pleasure of setting another ambush on my behalf."

"Good," said Forrest, approving of Soval security posture. "Coffee, tea, something to eat, Soval?"

"I would appreciate some tea."

Minutes later, tea served and small talk dispensed with, Forrest said, "So what brings you here, Ambassador?"

"As you know, the documents have just been signed and we are now officially a Federation, and this fledgling Federation of species we're building here needs some infrastructure to support it, Admiral," said Soval. "It was one of our engineers which first brought this to our attention. Once open war breaks out, we'll have broken ships to repair, and broken people to heal…"

Forrest nodded, for Soval words made sense.

"Accordingly," said Soval, "We've made appeals that every member species of the Federation send doctors with the skills and the knowledge base to treat their people, to the other planets of our Federation, for we have no way of predicting the course of this war."

"That is a logical proposal, Ambassador," said Forrest.

Soval nodded, and said, "And we mean to try something similar with our ships, Admiral, granting us the ability to pull our ships into any port, and be assured of competent service and repairs, without having to ferry damaged warships to their point of origin."

"You may count on my support, Ambassador."

"That's why I'm here, Maxwell," said Soval. "My government has in mind an exploratory project, and offers up a small shipyard in Vulcan's orbit as the first such Federation shipyard. We're willing to retool it as needed, in order to service all our ships."

"Really?" said Forrest. "I love the idea, Soval. What do you need from StarFleet?"

"Locating this station in Vulcan space is already pushing it with the Andorians," said Soval, "and if we appoint a Vulcan commander I doubt they'll make use of that station, no matter how dire their need."

Forrest nodded, understanding the problem at hand.

"And so we suggest placing a Human in command of this shipyard, as your people are a recent addition to interstellar politics," said Soval, "and none have grievance with your people yet."

"Makes sense," said Forrest.

"Accordingly," said Soval, "we will supply the workers, and each member species of the Federation will provide a dozen or so engineers, to serve as consultants for the Vulcan engineers when dealing with the ships of that species."

Forrest thought the matter over quickly, and said, "I'm all for this plan, Soval. What do you need from me?"

"I need a leader for this project," said Soval.

* * *

"Commander," said the Kumari's Comm officer, as the Kumari orbited Andoria, "you have a transmission from the surface."

"Put it through," said Shran.

A moment later the video monitor in Shran's Ready Room flickered to life, to display the image of Aethon of House Atrekos, Emperor of Andoria.

"My Lord Emperor," said Shran.

"It seems like you had a nasty little encounter with the Romulans, Commander."

"Yes, Highness," said Shran, recalling the encounter some five days past. "I apologize for our casualties. The mode of attack which the Romulans employed against us was unexpected. It will not happen again."

"Such things are part of war," said the Emperor, "and we learn from every setback. I have reviewed the video of your encounter and I thought that your crew did well enough in dealing with the unexpected."

"Gratitude, Highness."

"I have reached out to you now, in order to share some news with you, Commander," said the Emperor. "As you know, Orion Syndicate space borders Romulan space to some degree, so I've had my Guards pick up some Orions while your ship was undergoing repairs, in order to determine the identity of your attackers."

"Respectfully, Highness," said Shran, "the Orions would tell us anythi—"

"Give us some credit, Commander," said Aethon. "The Orions were strenuously interrogated individually and repeatedly, and they all agree on what little they know. Those being are named Remans, and the Orions believe that they're some sort of slave species to the Romulans. Accordingly, I've ordered that the Guards should capture some living Remans, so that we might converse with them and then release these Remans back to their people, with offer of freedom in return for their support against the Romulans."

"A matter worthy of investigation, Highness," said Shran.

"We'll see if anything comes of it," said the Emperor. "Have your casualties been replaced?"

"Yes, Highness," said Shran. "Yesterday."

"Good," said Aethon. "As soon as your ship is repaired, I want you back out there, Shran."

"Gladly, Highness."

* * *

Losak strolled through the large open air market packed with Vulcans even at high noon, for the brutal 114 degree heat was a normal part of life, and thus unremarkable. Better yet, the ceremonial robes of a psychic mind-priest came with some concrete benefits on Vulcan, among them, freely gifted foods and drinks from any public vendor, though it was considered rude to abuse the privilege by requesting the most expensive of items from a poor vendor, but such things were all but unheard of, and as Losak strolled through the market he limited himself to a small portion from each vendor, tasting a Risan plum here, a tasty cup of rice pilaf there, and a fruit smoothie from the last vendor.

But Losak served his people even now, for he walked the public places with a purpose, as did many of his brethren all across the face of Vulcan, their psychic awareness subtly flitting through the crowds in search of Romulan mind-signs, for it was assumed that the difference between the modern day Vulcan mind, disciplined from within after a lifetime of effort and meditation, and the externally focused Romulan mind brimming with a violence which was channeled rather than controlled, was the difference between night and day, and it was assumed that Losak's service, and that of his brethren, would aid the security forces in detecting Romulans attempting to pass themselves off as Vulcans. That assumption would have to be proved, but the mind-priests willingly volunteered to perform this duty for their people.

There! What's that! thought Losak, sensing the merest hint of an alien psyche, and he reached out with his awareness through the crowd, desperately seeking to pick up the trail!

Then it was gone.

Raw emotion was the key, and Losak sought it out, for if a Romulan was about to perpetrate an act of violence, his very pleasure and anticipation would surely mark him out as an alien to Vulcan, or so ran conventional thought, and Losak believed that to be true to the last moments of his life, when an 11 inch dagger was driven through his ribcage from behind, and as Losak stumbled to the ground, he caught blurry sight of the back of a Romulan, for he was surely that… but how, thought Losak, his murderous focus should have marked him out! It was unfortunate that Losak never lived long enough to realize that an Imperial Shrike felt little angst over the taking of life: it was just business, and there was no particular need to respond emotionally to that fact.

* * *

The day before his meeting with admiral Forrest, the captains Archer and Hernandez, and all the other assorted personnel which had taken part in this crew swap, Trip was summoned to StarFleets HQ building, and after passing through the numerous checkpoints which were now the new normal for the duration of this Romulan war, Trip finally reached Forrest's office.

"Ah, Commander Tucker," said Forrest. "Come in."

The admiral led Trip to a social area, and after he'd seen that Trip was comfortably seated, and after he'd placed a drink in the man's hand, Forrest sat across from Trip.

"I imagine you're curious about the reason you're here," said Forrest.

"Yes, sir," said Trip.

"You've been aboard the Columbia some five months now, and that after getting that ship out of space dock in the record time of three months," said Forrest. "You've done a great job, Commander, but you're needed elsewhere now."

"Sir?" said Trip, for he'd become quite comfortable on the Columbia… and then there was T'Fel.

Forrest ran things down for Trip, told him of Soval's proposal for establishing a federation shipyard in Vulcan space, to service the military ships of each and every species of the federation.

"And you want me to serve aboard this station, sir?"

"I want you to command that station, Commander Tucker," said Forrest.

"Surely there's someone better suited for that task, sir," said Trip. "I would think that my deep space experience would make me more valuable on a ship at this time."

"The Admiralty disagrees," said Forrest. "You're the man for the job, and you've proved yourself quite capable of interacting with Vulcans aboard the T'Lek Sor, and that's where we want you."

Trip sighed even as his mind raced.

StarFleet was organized on the basis of voluntary association, thought that might change if this war went on long enough, and Trip would have been well within his rights to press for continuing his service aboard the Columbia, and then resigning his commission if his request was rejected… but people were dying, and the Romulans were a deadly threat to Earth and Vulcan alike, and that station could make a difference for the better.

"Knowing the Vulcans," said Trip, "I'll wager that this older shipyard they're offering us is well maintained, but I'll also guess that it will require a great deal of work to accommodate such a random mix of Federation ships, sir. If I accept this assignment I'll need a carte blanche to bring this station up to MY standards, and do it quickly. I don't want to waste my time with tons of requisition forms, I don't want to justify my requests to some faceless bureaucrat on a daily basis… I ask and I receive, so that I can get the job done quickly."

"I see no problems with that, Commander," said Forrest. "Your orders are to make this first Federation shipyard a winner, and I'll see you get all that you need in order to make that happen."

Trip thought once more of T'Fel, Erika and Ayvok… but then recalled that duty was generally a burden.

"Yes, sir," said Trip. "I'll take on this project."

"Good," said Forrest, rising to his feet.

Trip had stood as well, assuming he was to be dismissed, but apparently Forrest wasn't done with him just yet.

"Give me a moment," said Forrest, and then the man grabbed something off his desk, and walked up to Trip: moments later, Forrest had removed the commander's bars from Trip's uniform, and replaced them with the bars of a captain. "Congratulations, Captain Tucker."

"Thank you, sir."

"When do I leave for Vulcan, Admiral?" said Trip.

"Soon."

* * *

A month had passed since the partial crew swap between the Enterprise and the Columbia, and the time allotted for this transfer of crew and skills had come to an end. The swapped crewmen would now return to their own ship, the Columbia's rookies having been well served by being embedded into a crew of veterans, while the Enterprise's veterans had leavened the crew of newbies on the Columbia, and set them on track for success by imparting hard won wisdom to a crew in desperate need of such knowledge, given the Romulan presence in this sector.

Now came the review, and the swapped crewmen were to meet in Conference Room 9 of StarFleet's HQ building at 1100 hours, along with their senior officers, in a meeting presided by Admiral Forrest. Accordingly, the crewmen trickled in some fifteen minutes before 1100 hours, followed shortly by Reed, Archer and T'Pol for the crew of the Enterprise. Soon after, Captain Hernandez entered the room for the Columbia, along with Commander Li, and after she'd taken a seat directly across from Archer, Erika nodded pleasantly to Jon, and then T'Pol.

"How are you, T'Pol?" said Erika.

"I am well, Captain," said T'Pol.

"And you, Jon?" said Erika.

"I'm all right," said Jon, somewhat cool towards Erika, for as he saw things, Erika had acted like a bitch during their last encounter. "How's life on the Colombia?"

Erika looked Jon over for a second, parsing his question and his tone, and then she smiled and said, "Never better, Jon, and Trip's partly responsible for that fact."

"Great," said Jon, after which he clenched his jaws so tightly that the man seemed to have a pair of walnuts in his cheeks.

Admiral Forrest was the next to enter the room some ten minutes before the appointed hour, and the man motioned them all to remain seated, when everyone in the room was about to stand and salute. Two ensigns assigned to HQ made the rounds with a beverage cart as Forrest scanned his PADD device for some last minute reminders, and just then the last two people scheduled to attend this meeting, Trip and Ayvok, stepped into the room. The two sat with the Columbia's crew on the left side of the table, Trip next to Hernandez, Ayvok next to Trip, and all that while T'Pol fastened her eyes on Trip with an intensity which drew Ayvok's notice, and Erika's.

"Captain? Captain Tucker?" said Jon, who'd been the first to notice the captain's bars pinned on Trip. "Congratulations, Trip!"

"Thanks," said Trip, smiling, for despite the recent tension between them, he and Jon had been friends and colleagues for some fifteen years now and Jon's pleasure at Trip's promotion was genuine.

"What ship are they giving you?" said Jon.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said Trip.

"You two can discuss that later," said Forrest. "Let's get this meeting underway."

And so it began with the swapped crewmen speaking first, then the command crews, all going over the positives and negatives of the crew swap, but T'Pol followed it all with just half a mind… the other half was focused on Captain Tucker. Thankfully the man had not brought that woman, T'Fel, along with him this time, so T'Pol focused her attention solely on Trip.

Trip sensed it too, T'Pol's attention, and glanced at the Vulcan. In turn, T'Pol gave a slight tilt of her head, gazed deeply into Trip's eyes, and raised her left brow slightly. The meaning of her look was clear: I know that you read my email. What say you?

But Trip merely raised brow in fair imitation of T'Pol's typical mannerism, and turned his attention back to Forrest. This displeased T'Pol, but now was not the time to go into it, and so T'Pol tried to focus on Forrest as well, but failed, for something odd, an abstract something tugged at the edges of her mind, and T'Pol reached for it, metaphorically speaking. A second later T'Pol made sense of that sensation, and gave that sensation a name: T'Fel… and T'Pol recoiled at that, that bitch! If there was one thing which could rouse emotion even in a modern Vulcan, it was surely interference between Bonded mates.

And T'Pol wasn't the only one in a foul mood here and now, for although Jon had his game face on, he couldn't help but take discreet notice of Trip and Erika… what the hell was going on there? Twice during the meeting Erika had touched Trip's forearm, and just now she'd leaned over to whisper in his ear. Oh, there was nothing questionable, not even close to sexual, they were both professionals and this a business meeting, but still…

There's no need for any of that, thought Jon. Can't they wait until after the meeting to talk? Why does she have to lean in on him that way?

And what's with Trip? thought Archer, for he and Trip had made eye contact just as Erika whispered into his ear, and Trip had smiled slightly, a smile which did nothing for Jon's mood, for it was too intimate a smile, too personal, and Jon wasn't sure if Trip was smiling with pleasure at Erika's closeness, or smiling with pleasure at twisting the knife in an old friend, all over T'Pol.

Some ten minutes later, Erika leaned into Trip once more, her body turned towards the newly frocked captain, and whispered once more in his ear, saying, "That last time was perfect, Trip. Give Jon another smile, won't you?"

Though Erika was in no position to give Trip orders any longer given his rank, Trip complied with the captain's request because Erika had a wicked streak which was amusing to indulge… and then the moment passed, and Erika turned to face Forrest once again.

Just then, Malcolm shuffled some papers which drew Trip's attention, and a moment later Trip felt T'Pol's eyes on him and something within Trip recoiled, for an unwelcome vision blossomed in his mind of Reed hammering T'Pol, and the Vulcan moaning under the Brit's thrusts, and what might have been a spirited scene had the two been strangers to him, inspired nothing in Trip but jealousy and revulsion, followed by a sense of finality as something cold and hard within Trip instinctively slammed between them now, barring T'Pol further access to her mate's mind…

T'Pol reeled at that, for though she'd had no doubts at all that she and Trip were mated, she'd assumed it to be a frail Bond with some limited degree of communion during dreams, daydreams and meditation periods, yet here their minds were linked in real-time, thoughts and emotions flowing along the Bond between them… and that with her mate still untutored in the intricacies of the Bond. T'Pol's heart reached for the sky now, at the thought of guiding her mate to embrace the Bond.

They could have it all, she knew that now, for apparently Humans and Vulcans could be proper Bondmates, or at least this Human could be a proper Bondmate… the way he'd severed their connection in his anger, that was an instinctual mind shield, and though she'd be able to overcome that if she might touch the psi points on the man's face: it would take time, depending on how strong his will, how obstinate his resistance, but she could do it. Yet if he could deny the Bond even now, how much stronger could he become with a proper regimen of mental discipline and guidance, how much deeper could their Bond become in time. They'd truly have it all!

In effort to communicate this with her mate, share her elation and test him in the process, T'Pol stared at the man until he looked at her, and T'Pol touched her temples as if scratching her head, then tapped them twice.

I have you in my head, thought T'Pol, and sent that thought along the Bond. And I am in yours.

And wonder of wonders, her mate must have felt her sending, curiously opened his mind to her's long enough to accept and understand the message, and responded, not with thoughts, for he was not conversant with the abstract manipulation yet, so he responded with sights, sounds and emotions of he and T'Fel, and T'Pol saw T'Fel's face in the throes of pleasure, tasted her skin, felt her touch… and T'Pol's spirits plummeted.

Her mate's message to T'Pol was clear: There is another.

Shaken, T'Pol looked at Trip with her heart in her gaze, but Trip's glance was inscrutable, and eventually the meeting ran its course. Forrest left the room, taking most of the crewmen with him, leaving only Trip and Erika, Archer and T'Pol behind.

"Well, its been nice catching up, Jon, but we have to go now," said Erika. "Trip and I have to make certain things are nice and tidy before he leaves the Colombia for his next assignment."

"Give him a moment," said Jon. "I want to talk to Trip. He'll catch up with you in a bit."

"Sure, Jon," said Erika, an innocent look on her face, though she was deeply amused, for she knew Jon well enough to sense his jealousy. "You boys have fun. T'Pol, let's leave them to catch up."

T'Pol hesitated for a moment, but she could tell that Archer was about to blow up, and T'Pol realized she'd get no chance to speak with Captain Tucker given Archer's mood, and that's if Trip would even speak with her after an argument with Archer.

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol, needing to meditate, and process the thoughts and emotions which clawed at her psyche now.

Moments after the two women left the room, Archer spun on Trip.

"What the fuck is going on with you and Erika, Trip?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that shit, Trip," said Jon. "We've been friends for a long time. Is that how bad you want to hurt me?"

"Are you kidding me?" said Trip, running a bit hot now. "Tell me you're joking!"

"Listen, don't throw T'Pol up in my face," said Jon. "I knew nothing about what you felt for her. If you'd opened your damned mouth, said something about her, you think I'd have done what I did?"

"No, I guess not," said Trip, as he truly didn't think Jon capable of that sort of thing.

"So? What's going on with you and Erika?"

"Jon, come on," said Trip, a shit eating grin on his face, barely resisting the impulse to twist the knife in Archer's back. "Get your head out of your ass. You know me better than that."

"I hope so," said Jon.

"Although," said Trip, "it's not like you've made it official with her. Hell, she said you two haven't seen each other for the better part of the year."

"So what," said Jon. "Listen—"

"No, you listen," said Trip, "she's pissed at the way you're stringing her along, and I might be able to talk her into something just to square things between you and I, and if I do, I'm going bang her like crazy, Jon, and she's gonna LOVE it!"

"Damn it, Trip," said Archer, laughing now, "you and Erika do anything, I'm gonna beat the stuffing out of you!"

Trip said, "You think I care? Erika and I have always gotten along, and we've got some crazy good chemistry. I think we'd rock the—"

"You're screwing with me now, aren't you?" said Jon, suspiciously.

"Maybe, maybe not."

Jon laughed now, and said, "Fine, just know that if you two do anything and I find out about it, I'll kill you both. Now come on, let's get a drink, and you can tell me about your new assignment."

"Fine, but you're buying, you prick," said Trip.

"Deal."

* * *

"When do you leave?" said T'Fel, sitting atop Trip's lap, her face buried into Trip's neck.

"A few days," said Trip. "I'm taking a diplomatic runner with Soval back to Vulcan, and with that fast a ship, I plan to avoid the Romulans."

"Let us hope so," said T'Fel, after kissing Trip's neck.

"I'll miss you," said Trip, and T'Fel sighed. "I wish I didn't have to go."

"I suppose it makes no difference," said T'Fel, pulling back and looking Trip in the eye. "This was always a temporary assignment for me, lasting only as long as it takes to integrate our Vulcan equipment on your ships. This separation was bound to happen sooner or later."

It was Trip's turn to sigh as he looked at T'Fel's bright eyes, and then the Vulcan leaned in and kissed him at length, after which Trip cupped her face and said, "This separation isn't forever. You know that, right?"

T'Fel shook her head despondently, and then the Vulcan gave a heartfelt sigh.

"If you must leave soon," said T'Fel, "we should make the most of the time we have left, Trip."

"You don't mean…"

"Oh, but I do," said T'Fel. "Non-stop."

"In that case, perhaps we should lay out some safe-words," said Trip.

"Safety is an illusion, Trip," said T'Fel, unbuttoning her paisley printed top which she'd bought in San Francisco, in order to reveal a lovely pair of breasts.

"But still…" said Trip, putting hands on the Vulcan's breasts, and then lips on breasts, and hands on hips, when T'Fel began pressing her body against his own. "I'm begging you! Don't do this, T'Fel! We need some safe-words. I fear what you might do to me in your current emotional state."

"Shhhh… Cast your fears aside, Trip," said T'Fel, giving the barest hint of a grin, somehow keeping Trip's lips on her breasts even as she moved around in order to straddle her lover: minutes later, T'Fel moved again, so that both she and Trip might strip out of their coverall uniforms in short order and get down to some real work.


	41. Chapter 41

— **Chapter 41 —**

* * *

"So," said Erika, once she and T'Pol had made their way from StarFleet's HQ building, "do you want to hit a coffee shop, T'Pol? A double espresso and a Caramel Koala? My treat."

"As pleasant as that sounds, Captain," said T'Pol, "my current duties require that I return to the Enterprise. May I take a rain-check?"

"Of course," said Erika. "It was good to see you again, T'Pol."

"I feel the same, Captain," said T'Pol, and with that the Vulcan made her way back to the Enterprise, for she'd been shaken by what had occurred inside the conference room between herself, and her mate.

A few minutes delay in order to check that all was well on the Bridge, where Lt-Commander Reed had already taken the conn as Acting Captain, and then T'Pol made way for her quarters. Once there T'Pol showered and slipped into her pajamas, lit a meditation candle, and then knelt in front of that archaic source of light, in order to focus within.

Twenty minutes passed and yet T'Pol had no success in reaching her desired mental state… too much had taken place in that conference room, and as a result of that fact, T'Pol was subject to an inner turmoil which threatened her control. This turmoil would have to be dealt with… now.

After a few deep breaths, T'Pol initiated the patterns of a mental process, a type of cerebral meditation which could bring clarity, if not peace, and with that, T'Pol sunk within herself, and in doing so she returned to the conference room…

It was there that she'd first realized that she and Captain Tucker… no, Trip, when she'd realized that she and Trip were not just Bonded, but were actually linked in a real time telepathic conversation of an abstract kind, and she'd been stunned, truly stunned. Bonded Vulcans often spent decades building on a Bond in order to achieve such a thing. Indeed a Bond of such strength that it allowed telepathic communication was considered a rare and blessed thing, yet she and Captain Tucker had achieved that in a matter of months.

Even more auspicious was the fact that the natural formation of a true Bond, without the intervention of a psychic Vulcan priest to link mind to mind, was considered highly unusual, almost blessed, for such a Bond necessitated a strong connection from both prospective Bondmates. Yet she and Captain Tucker had achieved that as well.

Gazing discreetly at her mate across the conference table, to the exclusion of all else in that room, T'Pol had been overcome by euphoria at the thought of what they could achieve, what they would achieve, for she'd thought their union inevitable at that particular point in time.

However, during the transit back to the Enterprise, the reality of what had truly occurred in that room intruded strongly upon T'Pol's hopes for the future, for Captain Tucker's anger, his jealousy, and his instinctive disgust at the powerful vision he'd had of her copulating passionately with Lt-Commander Reed had been followed shortly by an utterly chilling rejection of her presence in his mind, and that rejection had been followed in turn by an effective mind shield, instinctively raised, a shield which had forcefully denied T'Pol access to her Bondmate, through their link.

The real meaning of what she'd first perceived as a startling and wonderful show of her mate's strength now intruded painfully on T'Pol's consciousness, for not only had her mate rejected her, but he'd been strong enough to willfully bar her from his mind, and most disagreeably of all, he'd done so with a cold indifference that was both shocking, and painful…

Almost as bad were the images and the sensations he'd projected into her mind, images of 'that woman', that damnable T'Fel! Images and feelings full of tenderness and trust, attraction and passion, sensations which trumpeted that woman's importance to him! That was insufferable! Trip was HER Bondmate!

The turmoil in T'Pol's heart and mind was insupportable, and there was but one solution: she must withdraw from all external stimuli now, and examine the sequence of events with a proper detachment, as opposed to viewing these events through the lens of her own feelings and desires, for it was those very things, given the free rein they'd enjoyed up 'till now, which had led her to this desolation of the katra in which T'Pol found herself now.

The thing must be done in order.

T'pol paused a moment, until quite certain that she had command of her memories; and then, scene by scene, she played them out, now watching from above with the cool, analytical calm that must be applied if she was to comprehend in what way she herself might have been responsible for her present plight.

So…

Her physical condition – it had all begun with that. The responsibility for that, at least, was not hers. Artificially induced or not, she could not fairly be held to account in any way for the fact that the pon'farr had increased her levels of sexual desire; and it was probably inevitable that she should have fixated on Commander Tucker as the natural object of her interest given the preexisting attraction between them both, an attraction which they'd both tried hard to deny at times, certainly when she'd first boarded the Enterprise.

Initially, she'd found her arousal, and the symptoms of that arousal, easy enough to contain. To be sure, Commander Tucker's departure from the ship just then had seemed inconvenient, but she'd thought that with the exercise of proper Vulcan discipline she'd surely be able to keep her desires in check until his return. A month, after all, was not a lifetime, and T'Pol had been certain that upon his return, the man would undoubtedly be eager to seize the chance to satisfy his own desires, and satisfy her own in the process.

Remembering the version of herself which had accompanied Trip to the waiting shuttle, T'Pol felt the first stab of shame. She'd been so sure of herself, so confident of her ability to control the rising passion, so convinced of her own strength!

But in the end discipline had failed her, for her passions were too strong to be contained, and so, rationally, she'd made plans for satisfaction by going to Captain Archer. He was her superior officer, and StarFleet regulations specifically forbade that the two of them should indulge in an intimate relationship, but she'd been quite certain that under the circumstances Archer would ignore regulations and follow the promptings of his own sexual needs, and hers.

Even then, she might have managed the situation in such a way as to allow her to salvage matters afterwards, but she'd stifled the soft-spoken voice of good sense which counseled her to be honest with Archer, and she'd fed him half-truths instead. Truth, certainly; her state was desperate, her needs real, and both she and Archer had thoroughly enjoyed what followed. However, in her heart of hearts she'd known that he had given her more than his body. Yet despite knowing this fact about the captain's feelings, she'd said nothing. Her needs were paramount. He was providing what she needed, and Archer's emotional needs had mattered nothing to her.

She had been disappointed in not feeling any of of the emotional connection that she had expected to have with Commander Tucker. She had instead given herself over to the physical gratification of her overwhelming need.

Next, she had approached Reed. She was already aware that Reed found her desirable, and that fact, allied to her hunger, had enabled her to neatly ignore the fact that she was endangering his career as well by entering into a sexual liaison with him. She had cleverly played upon his sense of duty towards her, as a fellow officer and she'd relied upon his concern for her even if only as a friend, and she'd relied on his desires for her as a female. In retrospect, it had been quite easy to ensnare the man in short order, and she'd done so without qualms, and she'd done so while congratulating herself on her skill, even as she enjoyed the focused thrusts of his sexual desire, so different than, and so much more satisfying than the captain's.

How proudly she'd played them both, and how ruthlessly she'd enjoyed being the only one in the full knowledge of what was going on! How she had gloried in being the center of two very different men's desires, both of them doing their utmost to satisfy her while never dreaming that she saw herself as a goddess accepting the worship of those devotees she selected.

Little men, she might have said, love me and despair! Much as an Old Vulcan Princess, lost in the power of the Mating Drive, she had regarded their service as her just due.

And then Commander Tucker had returned to the Enterprise.

She'd been glad to see him back. Of course she had! He'd always been her intended bedmate, and it was not long after his return that he assumed the place which she'd always designated for him. And he was such a breath of fresh air, for he was not as awed by beauty as Archer and thus he lacked the captain's timidity, nor was he was as driven as Reed, and thus Commander Tucker took his time with her, and made a night of it each and every time, and what nights they were… Oh, he was so different! He was special.

And even then – even then! – she could have snatched victory from the jaws of her own thoughtlessness. She could have listened to her heart and her body, for they were speaking to her, and plainly speaking truth; she could have recognized the man's uniqueness, his quality, his personal value. She could have recognized the risks that she was taking by making him simply the third of three fools who shared her bed, but she had not. Even the realization that Trip satisfied her to a degree which neither of the others could ever hope to accomplish, had not succeeded in piercing her arrogant vanity.

She had needs – voracious needs – and she had three men willing to satisfy those needs, and in her blind folly T'Pol had seen nothing wrong in continuing to use them all as she pleased… and use was the proper term here, for she conceded nothing to their needs, let alone to the very real probability that sooner or later the secret of her nightly visits would cease to be a secret, or the possible consequences for them all if such a thing would come to pass.

And for a time her luck had held, but eventually she'd decided that her arrangement – it was hardly possible to dignify her arrangement with Commander Tucker by naming it as a 'relationship', for it had been based on deceit from the beginning – with Trip was important to her. Important enough,(that thought now was enough to have her bow her head almost to her knees in despair) to bestow upon him a 'preferred' status among her three toys; the one she would take first from the box, the one with which she'd play the longest.

The others? They had served their turn, and their services were pleasant enough for them to maintain their place in the rotation, if Tucker happened to be unavailable, and she should choose to take her pleasures elsewhere. And having come to this decision, how joyfully she'd put it all into action! How blithely she'd slipped into each bed in turn, how sated she'd been when she would finally slip into a dreamless sleep – how satisfied, how utterly complacent, with the perfection of her arrangement! After all, Archer and Reed were nothing more than physical gratification.

But even in the midst of her purring satisfaction with the situation as it stood, the small voice of sanity had finally succeeded in sounding a note of warning. T'Pol knew that she was playing a dangerous game. To be sure, she was playing it with consummate skill, but still, there was risk, and it grew with each passing day…

T'Pol understood the Human emotional processes well enough to suspect that Commander Tucker was becoming attached to her. This, from her point of view, was entirely satisfactory; it would foster good relations between them and thus ensure that he continued to provide her with the required sexual release, all while continuing to the attend to the subsidiary, yet still deeply satisfying, needs of affection and a strong emotional connection.

However, T'Pol knew that most Humans refused to share their mates with others, and it was highly likely that Commander Tucker would be among the norm in that respect, and if such was the case, then she was risking his grave displeasure merely for the sake of retaining the services of men who provided her with a much lesser degree of satisfaction, than he.

So…

Her needs still dictated she keep one in reserve, and a comparison between Archer and Reed dictated that Archer, the least satisfactory of the two, had to go, and so without regret the man was tossed aside.

Reed remained in the toy box to be useful when required, and he was required on a regular basis because T'Pol's condition showed little sign of abating, and Commander Tucker was a busy man. However, T'Pol couldn't help but note Reed's absolute lack of emotional involvement in their couplings. Oh, he was thorough enough, he was skillful, and he was energetic… he was in this, as in everything he did, a perfectionist , but it was clear to T'Pol that Reed saw her as no more than one of the exercise machines in the gymnasium… a pleasurable exercise machine, a beautiful one, but no more than that.

Illogically, T'Pol resented Reed for that fact, for regarding her in the same way she regarded him. The utter lack of a deeper connection was in almost painful contrast to Commander Tucker, who touched her on so many levels.

Never, however great the pleasures which Reed visited upon her body, would T'Pol cry out the word llatur, my love, to Reed. Suddenly, she felt a wave of shame. Llatur… she'd spoken that word to a man whose trust she'd betrayed, whose affection for her she'd destroyed, whose desire for her she'd shattered. Even when in her despair she'd finally written him, even then, she'd not given him the truth he deserved, but had continued to cloak herself in justifications and half-truths.

However, even after the discovery of her explosive secret, the needs of T'Pol's body still ruled her, and would do so for some time. With Commander Tucker no longer willing to accommodate her, she'd once more requested Archer's services. The captain had not refused T'Pol – her needs were still as valid as they had ever been – but there'd been a marked change in his attitude. He clearly held her behavior directly responsible for the loss of his chief engineer, and his best friend, and Archer's sexual attitude had become quite cavalier, for he no longer showed undue concern for her satisfaction. He took his pleasure from T'Pol's body, and while he treated her kindly, he hardly cared whether she'd derived sufficient pleasure from their couplings to satisfy her needs, and the wound caused by the captain's clear loss of respect for her cut T'Pol deeply.

Reed did not refuse her either, though he knew that Archer was back in the mix. Reed was a man of his word and he had agreed to help her, but it was painfully clear to T'Pol that he was growing more and more distant now, drawing within himself even as his body performed sexual acts from which his heart and soul were disconnected, but then T'Pol was not surprised by that fact. Commander Tucker had been his friend and there was no doubt in T'Pol that Reed also held her responsible for the loss of that friend, and also resented her for that loss, possibly even more than Archer himself. On several nights he'd been unable to conceal his distaste for the Vulcan, his desire to be rid of her, and for her part T'Pol ached in an arid silence as she dressed to leave, privately despairing that she'd been reduced to such empty couplings, when she should rightfully be sharing herself with an appreciative Bondmate even as the Bond hummed between them with resonant passion. T'Pol's katra withered daily, deprived of the proper nourishment which came as part and parcel of a true Bond, with a true Bondmate.

Well, thought T'Pol grimly, I suppose fair is fair. I have treated them both as objects to be used for my pleasure, and in the process, in their eyes, I have reduced myself to nothing more than an object to be serviced.

Just now, and far too late, everything became clear for T'Pol. In her blind arrogance she had assumed that once Trip became aware of what had occurred between them, of the Bond they now shared, that Trip would have yielded to the fact that the two of them were bound together by indissoluble ties, save for the aid of a Vulcan mind-priest. T'Pol had dared hope that her mate would accept that she'd done no more than necessary, in taking what lovers she'd needed to satisfy her overwhelming needs.

It was only now, apparently too late, that T'Pol understood that her premeditated promiscuity had revolted her mate even more than her deceit – though that in itself had displeased the man in great measure, and then she'd compounded her folly by engaging in lies of omission to them all, as if the purpose of their existence was her amusement.

She'd pretended to find justification in the fact that Humans were perfectly capable of promiscuity when it suited their purposes; it had even irked her that a man with many lovers was regarded as a 'stud', while a woman who did the same was regarded as a slut, but she'd shut out the fact that such behavior implied no respect whatsoever in either sex for the so-called 'conquests', whose function was reduced to a glorified form of masturbation.

Then, when her duplicitous behavior was uncovered, she'd expected them all to simply shrug off her behavior as 'a Vulcan thing', when she knew very well in her heart of hearts that by Vulcan standards, even more so than Human standards, her behavior had been utterly and absolutely outrageous. Her people valued self-control almost as much as they did logic, and she had flung all thought of self-control to the winds in her pursuit of satiation. Her people chose one, ONE, while she'd chosen three, for no better reason than her own convenience and the vain self indulgence of pleasure and power.

If her behavior towards Archer and Reed had been reprehensible, her conduct towards Trip had been absolutely inexcusable. She'd even brought up the subject of the two of them having 'a relationship' on one occasion, long before this whole mess, at a time when it had been patently impossible to pursue it, and she'd never alluded to it again, but there was small doubt in T'Pol's mind that he'd certainly not forgotten it; Trip's behavior on his return had certainly indicated he harbored hopes in that respect.

And how had she responded? She'd flung his affection, his respect, and all else he'd offered her, back in his face. She had betrayed him for nothing more than the convenience of immediate pleasure on demand, pleasure that she had not required, but simply desired. She had thought she could have Trip as her monogamous mate when and where she decided that the time was right, as if it WAS her right.

All through their voyage, Archer, Reed and Tucker had treated her respectfully. To be sure, at the beginning there'd been a few rough edges which needed to be smoothed out, but that was to be expected, and in all honesty her own behavior had at times fallen somewhat short of professional courtesy. And how had she repaid them? By reducing them to her own personal stud farm, setting them up in unknowing competition, and judging their worth by their ability to provide her with satisfaction, sure that she could have Trip when SHE judged the time was right.

Even in the supposed tranquility of her meditative state, T'Pol found herself rocking back and forward with anguish. How could she have been so blind, so selfish? How could she have failed to see how justifiably insulted they would feel once the truth came out?

And as for Trip…

He was her Bondmate. From the very start she had been aware of their connection, at least subconsciously, by the way that katra answered katra in the depths of their pleasure. He'd been her friend, her lover, her dear companion, and as payment for all that she'd lied to him, and she'd betrayed him.

He would have forgiven her for assuaging her hunger with the captain in his absence if she'd honorably admitted what she had done, and done so promptly, but forgive her for treating him as the others, just another in her array of conquests, all fools together in the dark? Doubtful, nay, impossible, and with that T'Pol realized that the very Bond which she'd relied upon to draw them closer, was forcing now them apart… his end of the Bond sensed her betrayal, and her mate reacted to that betrayal no differently than a Vulcan Bondmate. There was no worse offense in Vulcan society than to betray one's Bondmate, and now T'Pol felt engulfed by fear and shame… fear of loss, and shame at the thought of facing her mate, shame at the thought of her behavior coming to light.

"O Hasha," said T'Pol, naming one of the Old Gods of Vulcan, "aid me now."

On reflection, the pain was too great for T'Pol to cope with now, her mental distress too overbearing… she could no longer maintain her mental space, and so within seconds her white space dissipated, and T'Pol found herself back in her cabin, heaving great moaning gasps of anguish.

Trip would never accept his 'enslavement' to a woman he despised, one who'd treated him with such callous cruelty. His promotion would take him to Vulcan soon, where he'd eventually discover the workings of the Bond. The thought of a Bond severed ripped T'Pol's heart asunder even now, but that pain would be just a prelude, for the pain of severing the Bond would be unimaginable… and afterwards, only an eternal desolation of loneliness.

Lastly, as if all that was not enough, T'Pol's last vexing thought was that her mate had already replaced her with another Vulcan female, one who behaved with a proper Vulcan decorum, and one clever enough to recognize a good thing when it landed in her lap… and with that last thought, a perfect capstone to her misery, T'Pol wrapped arms around herself, even as she bent forward and collapsed onto herself in tears.

"Oh, Trip," whispered T'Pol. "What have I done?"

* * *

**Credit: I had the devil's time with this chapter, just couldn't do it, couldn't write it, and Rishooter, this story's co-author, wanted this chapter to be an emotional watershed in which Polly dropped all pretensions, and faced the truth of her actions, while leaving the reader in shocked silence. Accordingly, we needed a great pinch hitter to ghost write this chapter for Ris, and we needed an angst filled personality with a sadistic streak keen enough to flail T'Pol and take us along on Polly's emotional roller coaster ride, as well as cruel enough to allow us all a chance to experience Polly's angst…

A tall order, and so this story called for a truly perverse individual, one who had written a LONG string of stories in which our beloved Enterprise characters suffer horrible fates, and with that in mind, our choice was clear… LoyaulteMeLie was the one, and so we went, hat in hand, to beg for her assistance, after which LML and Ris put their heads together and hammered out this chapter, then passed it on to me to publish their shared vision of genius, or madness... Accordingly, gratitude and credit to LoyaulteMeLie for breathing life into Ris' angst filled vision, but if you truly wish to gaze into the Abyss, visit her page, and read some of her wonderful stories.


	42. Chapter 42

— **Chapter 42 —**

* * *

The day of Trip's departure from the Columbia for his new assignment had come all too quickly, and yet even as Trip packed the last of his sparse collection of personal items, a chime sounded, announcing a visitor at his door.

"Come in," said Trip.

A moment later Erika stepped into the cabin and Trip cast a swift glance towards his bunk. T'Fel had spent the night, and though she'd left his cabin hours earlier, Trip instinctively checked to see that nothing of her garments were left behind. Blessedly, he was in the clear: Erika would not have been angry, but she would have busted his chops mercilessly, and that was something he'd avoid, given the chance.

"Morning, Trip."

"Captain," said Trip. "Nice of you to come and say goodbye."

"I didn't want to take the chance you'd sneak out without saying goodbye," said Erika. "I'm glad you were promoted, but I wish I didn't have to lose you. We make a good team."

Trip smiled, and said, "Yeah, we do. I'll miss you."

"Likewise, Trip," said Erika, glancing around and taking a seat on Trip's bunk after moving his pillow aside. "I'm glad we had this time together. You were always Jon's friend, by and large, but I've really enjoyed getting to know you. Now you're my friend too."

Trip nodded, and said, "I feel the same. For what it's worth I wouldn't have left the Columbia, even for a promotion, if what I was heading towards wasn't worth doing. This has been a good place for me, Erika."

"I'm glad," said Erika, now hugging the pillow she'd previously pushed aside, and yet almost immediately frowning, then smiling.

"What's wrong?" said Trip.

"I never realized you favored a floral cologne," said Erika. "It's quite subtle, I can barely smell it... and it's surprisingly feminine."

"Oh, yeah," said Trip. "Present from my sister."

"Mmmm, hmmm," said Erika, her nose ostentatiously taking scent of the pillow once more, before she looked up at Trip, and smiled. "Funny... it smells like T'Fel's scent."

Still too stubborn to ever concede a point, Trip said, "Maybe she and Elizabeth shop at the same outlets."

"That must be it," said Erika, with a rueful shake of her head. "You know, half the crew loves you, the other half hates you, Trip. You banged a lot of skulls getting this ship out of spacedock, and then you kept banging heads to make proper crewmen out of the rookies."

"That was my job as an XO," said Trip. "The haters will get over it, or they won't. I don't give a shit."

"And I appreciate that attitude, else I know we'd still be in spacedock," said Erika. "Anyway, the Vulcan diplomatic runner has just docked with our Access Hatch, but the pilot's content to wait until you say your goodbyes."

"I've already said my goodbyes," said Trip.

Just then, the PA system sounded: "Captain to the Bridge."

"Duty calls, it seems," said Erika, smiling as she stood to give Trip a big hug, and a kiss on the cheek. "I'm gonna miss you, Trip."

Erika squealed as Trip hugged her back, lifting her off her feet, and giving her a kiss on the cheek in the process.

"Put me down, you fool," said Erika, and Trip obeyed orders, looking fondly at Erika.

"You stay sharp out there, Captain," said Trip.

Erika nodded, gave Trip a last smile and with that the captain made her departure.

Minutes later Trip headed for the turbo-lift, for he'd already said his warmest personal goodbyes to T'Fel, yet to his delight he saw the Vulcan waiting at the turbo-lift bay, leaning casually against the wall, arms pinned between the wall and her torso. She saw him, and then T'Fel stepped up to the turbo-lift and pressed the button which served to summon the lift, while Trip stepped next to T'Fel, looking straight ahead at the lit panel which indicated the tube's progress through the shaft.

"Lovely day, T'Fel," said Trip.

T'Fel turned her head for the first time, glancing at Trip, and said, "I do not particularly care for it, Captain Tucker, but then I'm losing someone I care about today."

"We'll meet again, T'Fel," said Trip, turning his head to look at the Vulcan now. "When this assignment is over, you'll probably go back to one of your ships, and I'm sure they'll visit Vulcan on a regular basis."

"I suppose," said T'Fel, looking at the ground despondently now.

Just then, the lift reached their deck, and the door slid aside. Trip gestured with his head, and T'Fel stepped within: the moment the door closed and they had privacy, T'Fel flew into Trip's arms even as the lift began moving. Normally the ride to D deck would have only take a few seconds, but Trip paused the elevator, which gave them the better part of ten minutes to make out like bandits, before the inter-comm sounded.

"This is Engineering. We'll have you out of there in a bit."

"Don't bother, Elkins," said Trip. "I purposely halted the lift. I thought I heard something odd, but it turned out to be nothing. I'll be moving on soon."

"Ah... you know we have cameras in the elevators, XO," said Elkins. "Does the rest of Engineering get to give you the same type of send off? Because if that's the case I need to gargle and rinse first."

Trip laughed and said, "Elkins, you fuck. Turn off the cameras and walk away."

"You got it, XO," said Elkins. "Good luck on your new command, you bastard."

Trip laughed at Elkins' farewell, then spent a few minutes longer on another round of fevered kisses, and then finally got the lift moving once more, while he got himself together: for her part, T'Fel looked remarkably unruffled with just a few adjustments, no matter how hot her kisses had been. Another five minutes, and Trip and T'Fel stood before the Access Hatch.

"You know Elkins has already shot his mouth off about our kiss," said Trip. "You'll have half the crew lining up for their own kiss, before the hour's over."

"I doubt it," said T'Fel. "I am a Vulcan and so they will believe that Elkins is lying."

"Probably right," said Trip with a smile.

"You will be deeply missed," said T'Fel.

"As will you, T'Fel. Long life and contentment," said Trip, giving T'Fel the ta'al.

"Success in your new venture, Captain," said T'Fel, returning the ta'al, and with that, and a last stolen kiss, Trip left the Columbia.

Later that day, once her duty shift was over, T'Fel composed a transfer request to a very particular duty assignment upon the conclusion of her tour with the Columbia, and that request took its place in the outgoing messages queue… during the Columbia's next transmission, that transfer request would make its way to the proper offices within the High Command, to be approved, or denied.

* * *

Three days later, the high speed diplomatic runner ferrying Trip to Vulcan made orbit around that planet, and shortly afterwards, Trip made his way to Earth's Embassy on Vulcan, as Admiral Ryan had cleared some room on his schedule for Trip.

"Morning, Captain," said Ryan, looking up from his work as his secretary showed Trip inside. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, sir," said Trip.

"Some coffee?" said Ryan, gesturing that Trip should take a seat on one of the two couches at the east end of his office.

"Please," said Trip, and Ryan's secretary left for coffee, while Ryan joined Trip, sitting across the coffee table from Trip.

"How was the flight here?" said Ryan.

"Pleasantly uneventful, Admiral," said Trip.

The Admiral's secretary returned with their coffees and then left the room, at which point Ryan slid a PADD towards Trip.

"Your new commission, Captain," said Ryan. "A shipyard named the Uzh Palik. Means 'A New Beginning' or 'A New Dawn', I forget which."

"It means 'A New Beginning', sir," said Trip, before taking a sip of coffee.

"Well now that I know that much, I can sleep tonight," said Ryan. "Everything you need to know is on that PADD unit."

"May I see her now, sir?"

"No, the Vulcans are towing her in a proper orbit, two days from now," said Ryan. "They had her warehoused in a polar orbit, but they don't want an active shipyard in that location. Let them to do their thing, and then she's all yours."

"Yes, sir," said Trip.

"In any case," said Ryan, "you've got a party to attend tonight."

"A party?" said Trip.

"Yeah," said Ryan. "At Soval's house. He's asked that you and I attend, and he'll introduce you to some of the High Command's officers, with whom you'll be dealing with in getting that station up to snuff."

"Yes, sir," said Trip, knowing that such introductions made for smoother transitions.

Just then, Ryan's secretary let a young Ensign in the room.

"Ah," said Ryan. "Captain Tucker, Ensign Rowa, who'll take you to your hotel room, and bring you back here at 1900 hours. We'll go to Soval's from here."

"Yes, Admiral," said Trip, taking that for the polite dismissal it was.

* * *

The Human colony on Alpha Centauri was relatively new, only some thirty years old, yet it was thriving here, with a large capital city and a half dozen subsidiary cities spread out across the face of the planet. It had begun as a mining colony, producing raw materials, though in the past decade it had made a major push to become a tech producer as well, and had made impressive strides in that direction in a very short time. Another hundred years at this pace and this place would rival Mars, which was saying something, but even as it was, it was the crown jewel in EarthGov's portfolio, a pioneering success story, and accordingly, it was defended by twenty-four Delus class ships, and there was even talk of sending the 3rd NX ship here as a flagship for this little fleet, when that ship made it out of spacedock. There was no hurry though, for the Delus ships had done a good job keeping law and order in the system, so far as StarFleet was concerned... until now.

This day, three Romulan Warbirds, accompanied by a dozen Birds-of-Prey warped in-system and closed in on Alpha Centauri. They came uncloaked, since StarFleet sensors would have revealed their general presence anyway, but they also came uncloaked as a sign of contempt. For their part and to their credit, the Delus squadron guarding Alpha Centauri closed distance with the Romulans fearlessly, though the size discrepancy between a Delus ship and the Romulan Warbirds was daunting… and with that, the battle for Alpha Centauri began.

Misha Volkov led the battle for the Humans from the Bridge of his ship, the Trebia, and it was his call to assign a Delus to each Bird-of-Prey, and assign four Delus to each Warbird. It was a good call, but the Humans were badly outclassed.

The Birds-of-Prey had an advantage over the Delus class to begin with, though that might be compensated for by a veteran crew, but the Warbirds were in a whole different class, and the Delus class ships were badly outmatched here, despite their numerical superiority. The Romulans knew it too, for the Warbirds kept course for Alpha Centauri, shrugging off the hits by their Delus pursuers with a regal indifference, while firing banks of disruptor cannons at the StarFleet vessels. The Delus were holding their own for now, mainly through agility and maneuvering tactics which placed the Delus ships at the aft of the Warbirds, thus providing the smallest target, and avoiding a broadsides scenario, but it would only be a matter of time before their luck would run out.

The other Delus ships had better luck with the Birds-of-Prey, but nothing to brag about, and even here the Human ships were getting the worst of it, if not by so wide a margin, and so the jockeying for advantageous positions continued in the running battle, even as phaser cannon batteries struck out at the Romulan ships, and Romulan disruptor batteries struck out at the Human ships, all as the Romulan Warbirds drew closer and closer to Alpha Centauri.

* * *

Right on time at 1900 hours, Trip returned to Ryan's office, and the two then took an embassy car to Soval's house on the northern side of the capital city, in a place called the Seven Hills, because well, there this neighborhood was surrounded by seven magnificent hills. There was some prestige to living here, for it was this area which was first settled some three thousand years ago at the city's founding, but it was more than that. This site allowed a wonderful view of the rest of the capital city from high above, and better yet, the area boasted a number of hot artesian springs, which formed the basis of the extensive network of mineral baths, reputed to be a cure for just about any illness.

"Beautiful place," said Trip, watching the terrain and houses as the car made way for Soval's house.

"Yes," said Ryan. "The relatively high amount of water in the Seven Hills supports a richer plant life mix."

Trip murmured his understanding of that fact, and in short time their car had reached Soval's house.

If asked to guess Soval's taste in architecture, Trip would have drawn a blank. Vulcans tended to be somewhat restrained, so Trip would have known it wouldn't be tacky, but nothing more than that… he'd certainly never have expected Soval's sprawled out compound. Oh the main house was grand enough, but it was build of rammed earth and stone, and so it fit in beautifully with the rugged Vulcan terrain… and the subsidiary buildings were laid out in something of a square pattern, leaving space for a large and beautiful outdoor courtyard of sorts, but a private one, and this night that inner courtyard was beautifully decorated by the catering company with which Soval had contracted for this evening.

To his surprise, Trip enjoyed himself at that party right from the start. The stream of appetizers was continuous and of endless variety, each different kind delicious, and to Trip's surprise a dozen or so types of liquor were served, along with the expected Risan teas, Earth's coffee and Regulan juices… Soval was clearly a gourmand, or at the very least the ambassador had been wise in selecting that particular catering company.

Ryan had ditched Trip in order to speak to a Vulcan Navy Rear-Admiral he'd long been acquainted with, which suited Trip just fine, and so he moved about the party, eating and making a tasting tour of the various liquors, conversing politely with a number of Soval's guests, which perhaps not surprisingly, included a fair number of alien species, mostly diplomats or their families.

It was just after Trip had given a young Denobulan female the slip, for Trip was certain that Admiral Ryan would not approve of the activities which the young woman had just proposed, that Trip was approached by a middle aged Vulcan, bearing two fluted glasses, one of which she held out for Trip to take.

"Much obliged, ma'am," said Trip. "What is it?"

"Regulan ovril," said the Vulcan. "You'll like it, it has a bit of sweetness to it."

Trip took a sip, and nodded approvingly, then said, "It's quite good, and you were kind to share it with me, ma'am."

"I am T'Les, Captain Tucker," said the Vulcan, "and Soval tells me that you know my daughter."

"You must be Ensign Sato's mom," said Trip, a grin on his face, for he'd recognized the name the moment he'd heard it.

"No," said T'Les, and it was impossible to know how she felt about Trip's quip: she had a hell of a poker face. "I am T'Pol's mother."

"Oh, ok," said Trip. "You know, I mean no disrespect, but T'Pol can be quite infuriating at times. She's often driven me to the brink of madness."

"And now I see that you truly do know T'Pol," said T'Les, only the slightest upturn at the corners of her mouth.

"That I do," said Trip, "and I'll tell you that I've seen T'Pol in some pretty stressful situations, but I've never seen her so intimidated as when she spoke of her accomplished mother."

"Is that so?" said T'Les. "I would like to hear some of the things which T'Pol has done in StarFleet, Captain. Perhaps we could find someplace to sit down and talk."

"I apologize, but I can't do it, T'Les," said Trip, for just then Ryan caught Trip's eye, then gestured towards him. "Admiral Ryan wishes to speak with Soval and I right now apparently, and then I'm scheduled to meet with some mid-level members of your High Command, in order to prepare me for my assignment here on Vulcan."

"I understand," said T'Les.

Trip nodded, then inspiration struck him. Vulcans worked on a four day on, three days off schedule, and the off-days would begin tomorrow.

"What are you doing tomorrow, T'Les?"

"Nothing," said T'Les. "What do you have in mind?"

"Let me buy you a meal at the restaurant of your choice," said Trip, "and we'll speak of your rebellious daughter to your heart's content."

That offer pleased T'Les greatly, and so the Vulcan passed Trip a business card.

"Come to my house instead, for lunch, Captain Tucker. I will cook for us," said T'Les. "My address is printed there, so a hire-car can bring you there easily."

"It's a date," said Trip.

"A date?"

"A scheduled time for cordial social interaction," said Trip. "If you should speak of this to T'Pol, tell her we're dating. Tell her that I'm dating the hell out of you. She'll know what it means."

"I will do so," said T'Les.

"Until tomorrow, T'Les."

"I look forward to it, Captain Tucker," said T'Les.

* * *

"Captain!" said the Trebia's Tactical officer to Captain Volkov, "I've got radiological signals from the Warbirds. They're going to nuke Alpha Centauri."

"Fuck me," said Volkov. "Comm, order all ships to focus their attacks on the Warbirds! Three teams of eight."

"Aye, Captain," said the Trebia's Comm officer.

The Tactical officer sighed, for although Volkov had made the right call, the Delus class ships would be chewed up by the Birds-of-Prey if they were not fighting back… tough call to make, but Volkov had made the right call, and if Alpha Centauri was nuked this day, it would never be said that the crews of this squadron had not done their duty honorably.

What followed was a nasty scene with every Delus ship concentrating fire on the Warbirds, while relying on mobility and fast fading shields to keep the Birds-of-Prey from blasting them all to hell, yet none of it was enough, at least not for the Trebia.

A salvo of disruptor fire struck the Trebia, practically gutting the ship and venting the contents of two sections into space, but that wasn't the worst of it…

"Captain," said Hendricks, the Trebia's Chief Engineer. "That last hit did us in. I've got a warp field breach in progress. We're done."

"How long?" said Volkov, hoping at least that the crew could evacuate the ship and reach Alpha Centauri: he'd go down with the ship.

"Ninety seconds or so," said Hendricks, and Volkov paled at that, for failing his crew was a captain's worst nightmare, and no matter the facts, Volkov considered the loss of his crew a failure on his part.

Even as the captain processed the situation, the Bridge crew looked at each other grimly: none of the crew would make it off this ship in ninety seconds.

"Understood," said Volkov, silent for a few seconds, and then he spoke again. "Do we still have impulse?"

"Yes, Captain, and I can rev the hell out of the impulse engines," said Hendriks, already seeing the captain's plan. "Not like we have to worry about voiding the warranty."

"Get them hot, Chief," said Volkov.

"Aye, sir," said Hendricks. "Pleasure serving with you, Captain."

"Likewise, Chief," said Volkov, and then the captain focused his attention on the Bridge crew. "Comm, reach out to the Valley Forge and tell Saltan he has command of the squadron."

"Yes, Captain," said the Comm officer.

"Helm, your target will be the lead Warbird," said Volkov.

"Aye, Captain," said the Helm officer, a young man willing to do his duty to the bitter end. "I now have full impulse power."

"The Valley Forge asks if we need assistance," said the Comm officer.

Volkov ignored that officer, his world collapsing upon itself, even as the clock was running out.

"Do it!" said Volkov, and on the captain's command, the Trebia launched itself at the lead Warbird like a spear of the gods at full impulse speed.

A common misconception is that shields are an invulnerable barrier so long as they're functional, but that's just not the case. The strength of shields is determined by the power output of the engines, thus larger ships tend to have larger engines, and thus stronger shields, but no ship's shield was strong enough to deal with what happened next.

The Trebia had a mass of 340,000 metric tons, just about half that of an NX class ship, and this mass was accelerated in the blink of an eye to full impulse speed, 70 million kilometers per hour, to almost instantaneously deliver a blow too speedy to avoid, too powerful to deflect… no shield could withstand that sort of hit, and though the Trebia broke up on impact with Warbird's shields, that incredibly fast moving mass of metal plowed onwards into the Warbird and turned that huge Romulan ship into a debris field faster than the brain could process the initial stages of that visual data, and then that even larger debris field composed of the wreckage of two ships, in turn damaged another six Romulan Birds-of-Prey, while outright destroying two others, and damaging another Warbird.

Both sides were stunned by the violence of the Trebia's death, yet almost immediately, nine more Delus class ships began overpowering their impulse engines… Out of the Romulan ships, only the two remaining Warbirds carried nukes, and it was clear to the Romulans that the Warbirds would not be allowed to approach Alpha Centauri… it seemed the StarFleet officers had decided that no matter what happened here next, Alpha Centauri would not burn this day.

The Romulans took note of the fact that at least nine more ships were willing to duplicate that startling maneuver, surprised for the first time since they'd begun their war against the Humans. A man willing to die in order to destroy you, well, that man is hard to beat, and with that thought the Romulans retreated, for there was no purpose to be served in losing two more of the rare and valuable Warbirds this way.

Oh, certainly, they might have tried to cloak themselves and close in on Alpha Centauri, but cloaking the huge Warbirds would take 9.2 seconds, and if the Humans were truly committed and willing to sacrifice themselves, they could die and take the Warbirds with them before the cloaking device could conceal them. At that realization, the Romulans retreated, and with that retreat the battle of Alpha Centauri came to a close with both sides bloodied badly, and a true victory for the Humans. Their first.


	43. Chapter 43

— **Chapter 43 —**

* * *

Trip rose out of bed the next morning at 9AM, and the luxury of sleeping in late was something which he appreciated. He showered, shaved and dressed in short order, then called room service for a pot of coffee, and since this hotel catered to a lot of Human visitors to Vulcan, they had coffee and it was a high grade brew at that, so Trip surfed the Vulcan info-net for a couple of hours while slamming coffee, after which he called T'Les.

"Good morning, Captain Tucker," said T'Les, for the caller ID had displayed the hotel's name on the base of her comm unit.

"Good morning, T'Les," said Trip. "I'm just verifying that we're still on for lunch."

"Yes, of course, Captain Tu—"

"Call me Trip."

"Very well, Trip," said T'Les. "I have not started cooking yet. I need to run out to the market for a few items I forgot, but I should be back by the time you get here. If not, the keycode for the front door is 7791A."

"All right," said Trip. "See you soon."

"Yes," said T'Les. "See you then."

* * *

"I welcome this development, Captain," said Shran, looking at Archer from across the table, for the Enterprise was to join a squadron of three Andorian vessels on a patrol run, beginning only hours from now. "Conducting a patrol with the Imperial Guards should be more lively than the bloodless exercises you conducted with the Vulcans."

"I learned a lot from my time with the Vulcans," said Archer diplomatically, "and I hope to do the same during my time with the Andorians."

Shran poured more Andorian ale for them both, and nodded his approval of Archer's words.

"To victory!" said Shran, holding up his shotglass.

"To victory," said Archer, clinking glasses, after which they downed their fourth shot of the night, and the night was young.

* * *

Forty minutes after speaking with T'Les, a hire-car dropped Trip off at T'Les' house. The place was charming: a small house on a small lot in comparison to Soval's compound, but it was well designed and practical, as well as sparsely furnished with elegant but functional furniture. A small courtyard fenced in by a stone wall at the front of the house, a larger yard in back sparsely decorated with native plants, and a covered driveway on which an older, but attractive, Vulcan vehicle was parked, a vehicle which quickly drew Trip's appreciative eye. He was out there admiring the vehicle, when T'Les made an appearance.

"I apologize for not being here to greet you," said T'Les. "The shopping went quickly enough, but I had a devil's time getting a hire-car."

"Why didn't you drive your vehicle?" said Trip.

"It broke down a few months ago," said T'Les, "and I can't afford to fix right now."

"What model is it?" said Trip.

"2140 Yirill," said T'Les. "It's thirteen years old, so it's probably breaking down with age. Now, I will go start lunch. Come in when you get bored."

"All right," said Trip, and when T'Les went inside, Trip reached for his comm unit.

Once activated, the comm unit displayed a text list of two StarFleet vessels within transmission range: the Yorktown and the Bucephalus. Of them, Trip had met the Yorktown's captain, Sattari, and it's Chief Engineer, Mosely, so Trip reached out to the Yorktown.

"Yorktown. You have the ship's Comm officer."

"Captain Tucker here," said Trip. "Is Mosely available?"

"Yes, sir," said the Comm officer. "Please hold."

Moments later, Mosely came online and the two men spoke briefly before coming to the point.

"So what can I do for you, Captain," said Mosely.

"Would you beam a Class B Tech&Tool kit to this location please," said Trip.

"No problem," said Mosely. "Anything else?"

"Can you access the Vulcan info-net, Chief?"

"Yes," said Mosely. "What do you need?"

"Would you send a shop manual for a 2140 Yirill to my PADD unit please," said Trip.

"Sure, but it will be written in Vulcan," said Mosely. "Do you have a translation app installed on your PADD unit?"

"Yes," said Trip, for the sake of brevity.

"Than it's no problem," said Mosely, and within ten minutes Trip had the Tech&Tool kit, as well as the shop manual, and with that he went to work.

By the time T'Les came out to get Trip for lunch, the bare chested man was under the hood, lost in the technical challenge which the vehicle represented, and though T'Les doubted the Human would be able to diagnose and fix a Vulcan vehicle, he would do no harm in trying. After first trying and failing to coax Trip inside for lunch, T'Les went indoors and returned shortly thereafter with a pitcher of iced raspberry tea and two tall glasses, and the two kept a comfortable vigil together, with Trip working on the vehicle, as T'Les read a historical novel based on pre-Reformation Vulcan.

Twenty minutes later, Trip grunted, and said, "I've got it."

"What?" said T'Les. "What do you have?"

"This controller board is your problem," said Trip, wrapping the board in some plastic wrap, for he meant to study it later. "Everything else checks out."

"Are you certain?" said T'Les.

"Yes," said Trip. "I can give you the precise name of this board. Can you call a parts store, have this part delivered?"

"Yes," said T'Les.

Thirty minutes later they had the part, and ten minutes after that Trip said, "Start her up, T'Les."

Excited, but resolved to keep her excitement in check lest she be disappointed by failure, T'Les activated the vehicle, and wonder of wonders, the vehicle hummed to life, slowly rising off the deck, for the Vulcans had long ago dispensed with tires, in favor of magnetic levitation.

"The rest of the system is in good shape. Now, let's take her for a spin, T'Les," said Trip, as he slipped the shirt over his sweaty torso. "Let's make sure she's good to go."

A twenty minute ride back to his hotel so that Trip could take a quick shower and change in some clean clothes, and then they headed back to T'Les' house, which they reached without problems.

"I am greatly appreciative, Trip," said T'Les. "This makes my life much easier, but—"

"Forget about it, T'Les. It was my pleasure," said Trip. "I'm starving though. Feed me, and we'll call it even."

"Let me take you out for a proper meal as thanks, Trip," said T'Les.

"Don't be silly, T'Les," said Trip. "Whatever you fixed for lunch is fine."

And so Trip and T'Les had soup, salads and a Vulcan mushroom and imported cheese lasagna, seven layers high and remarkably tasty, followed by a Risan citrus-flavored sponge cake drizzled with a delicate vanilla cream sauce.

"You're a great cook, T'Les," said Trip, well satisfied. "It doesn't get better than this."

"Actually, it does," said T'les. "Wait here."

She returned moments later with a bottle of the same Regulan ovril Trip had tasted the night before when he'd first met T'Les, and Trip brightened at that, as the ovril was good stuff. Moments later they'd popped the bottle and began sipping the stuff out of tea cups.

"Oh yeah, T'Les," said Trip, eyes closed as he savored his ovril. "This ovril is sooo good!"

"I am glad you like it," said T'Les, pleased to do something nice for the man who fixed her vehicle.

Trip opened his eyes, and the two clinked cups, and then kept drinking and talking for the next six hours of T'Pol's adventures while on the Enterprise, killing the bottle of ovril in the process. A bit later T'Les fixed them both some grilled cheese sandwiches to accompany what was left of the soup, and together they watched an entertainment program from the Vulcan info-net. When the Vulcan midnight finally rolled around, Trip meant to call a hire-car to ferry him to his hotel, but T'Les wouldn't hear of it, and bid him to take the guest room instead, and with that they both turned in.

Hours later, Trip woke in the unfamiliar surroundings, then recalled how he'd come to be there, and he finally rose to use the bathroom. On the way back to his bed, he passed the open door of what was clearly T'Pol's room, and despite himself, Trip stepped inside, and turned on a bedside lamp. Standing there, Trip could practically feel T'Pol… a half dozen science trophies, a selection of books, two stuffed animals which must have been T'Pol's in childhood, a sweater that still held her scent, which meant that she'd worn it on her last trip to Vulcan, a sketch of some kind of bear, or maybe it was a sehlat.

A few photos of T'Pol in her youth... and she was an adorable looking kid, often flanked by a younger T'Les and a man which Trip assumed was T'Pol's father, but he disappeared from the photos by the time T'Pol entered her teens. A late teens photo in which T'Pol was now recognizably herself as he knew her, and looking quite grumpy, though adorably so... there would be a story behind that photo.

A last pass through the room, as Trip indulged in a bit of nostalgia at the way things used to be with him and T'Pol, and then Trip sighed, turned off the light and returned to his bed, where he promptly fell asleep once more.

* * *

Even as Trip slept through the night, the Enterprise fell in formation with three Andorian combat cruisers on a long patrol run which would take these four ships to the edges of Andorian space, and then see them return through Vulcan space, back to Andoria.

Such patrols were common, for although the Romulan cloaking devices still gave them an element of strategic surprise, every trace of Romulan contact was reported by the various patrol ships and fed into a computer system which analyzed the data, and produced a pretty decent threat assessment for each sector of space, so the patrol runs were worth doing. What's more, the Romulans were not the only reason for the runs… Ships ran into trouble out here and needed rescue, criminals preyed on the weak and that could not be tolerated, even though it could not be completely eradicated. Oh yes, there were many reasons to be out here.

Still, Archer found that he enjoyed his time with the Andorians, moreso than his time with the Vulcans, for the Andorians were more creative, more inquisitive, more playful than the Vulcans, and so they made scanning an asteroid field a game, just as they made flying through that asteroid field another type of game afterwards, and if anyone but Ensign Mayweather had been at the Helm of the Enterprise, Archer would have broken out in a cold sweat… More amusing still, hours later the Andorians blasted their weapons within a gas nebula igniting a few thousand miles of that nebula for a short time, though given the speed at which the ships traveled that fire posed no danger, for they were out of the flames in a matter of seconds. All of it was fun for Archer, until things took a nasty turn.

* * *

Trip woke at 9AM or shortly after that time, and headed for the living room, only to find T'Les there, watching the wall mounted video monitor.

"Morning, T'Les," said Trip.

"Come, sit here," said T'Les.

Trip noted the sadness on her face, restrained though it was, and he said, "What's wrong?"

T'Les said nothing, and so Trip simply watched the broadcast as the video recording from the Alpha Centauri system showed the battle between the StarFleet vessels and the Romulan squadron, and shortly thereafter Trip witnessed the brave death of the Trebia, as she took a Romulan Warbird with her, as a last act of defiance…

"Fuckin A," said Trip.

T'Les looked at Trip, uncertain of the captain's emotional state, for his odd statement seemed to contain both sadness, and exultation.

"They were done anyway, T'Les," said Trip. "That hit they took was fatal. The Trebia would have exploded in a matter of minutes at most, lost with all hands on deck, but instead of burning out like a gutted candle, she burned as brightly as a star, and took a Romulan Warbird with her."

Just then, the video showed once more the immediate after effects of the Trebia's strike, as both the Trebia and the Warbird exploded in a blinding flash of light, before the camera's sensors adjusted to compensate for the flare and brought things in focus once more.

T'Les sighed, for that could just as easily have been T'Pol's ship, but there was nothing to be done about it: T'Pol would never abandon what she considered to be her duty: it was one of the things which T'Les admired about her daughter, but it was something she hated just now.

* * *

"What the hell is going on, T'Pol?" said Archer, for she understood the Andorians best.

Some ten minutes earlier, the Andorian ships, with the Enterprise in tow, had dropped out of warp atop nine ships, like cats jumping among pigeons, weapons blazing, taking three of those ships out almost immediately, then turning on the rest.

"Those ships belong to the Orion Syndicate, Captain," said T'Pol.

"I don't care who they belong to!" said Archer. "They did nothing to us! Comm, call the Kumari, tell them to stop their attack!"

"Hold, Comm," said T'Pol, and just then the Enterprise shook as one of the Orions opened fire on the StarFleet vessel. "Captain, you can not interfere, and you should help."

"Are you mad?" said Archer. "We have no beef with the Orions."

"And the Andorians have no beef with the Romulans, Captain," said T'Pol. "If you do not support the Andorians, and the Emperor hears of it, he may well decide to withdraw his support from us. That is how the Andorians think. Loyalty is everything them."

"I thought the Andorians had a truce with the Syndicate, in return for information on the Romulans!" said Archer.

"That truce only restrains the Andorians from launching their typical raids into Syndicate space," said T'Pol. "This is Andorian space, Captain, and the Orions know full well that they will never be allowed within Andorian territory. They took their chances, and they lost, and now they're paying the price."

The ship shook again, and Archer knew that Travis's maneuvering couldn't keep them safe forever. They had to join the fight, or leave the area.

"Those could be innocent civilians, T'Pol," said Archer.

"Those are Syndicate raiders and they are armed as well as us," said T'Pol. "If this federation means anything to you, Captain, join the attack. You do not have to like it, but you do have to prove your loyalty, or risk the consequences."

The Enterprise shook again, and with a growl, Archer said, "Return fire!"

It took twelve minutes of maneuver and fire to cripple or destroy the Orions, after which the Andorians finished off the crippled Orions, and then the squad resumed its patrol, though Archer was shaken. He hoped there had been no innocent civilians aboard those ships, but hope was a weak comfort on this day.

"My Ready Room," said Archer, looking at T'Pol.

Moments later, he turned on her.

"Are we just killing for the fun of it now, T'Pol?" said Archer.

T'Pol gave Archer a firm look, and said, "Andorian space borders Orion Syndicate space, and the Orions preyed heavily on the Andorians in their past, until the Andorians gained technological parity. The Andorians have declared a blood feud against the Orions long ago, and it will never end, Captain, until the Orions are dead, or gone beyond Andoria's reach. Do you understand now?"

"Well I don't want any part of that blood feud," said Archer.

"What you want is irrelevant, Captain, and if StarFleet will not support the Andorians, then the Andorians will withdraw their support from the federation, or in a worst case scenario they might even join the Romulans," said T'Pol. "We can fight the Orions with the Andorians, or we can fight the Romulans without the Andorians. StarFleet had best get its head on straight, and decide quickly."

Archer thought back to the encounter, thought of the efficiency and brutality with which the Andorians fought, and decided that he'd rather have the Andorians fighting with the federation: hell of a choice though…

* * *

"I appreciate the ride, T'Les," said Trip, later that day as T'Les dropped him back off at his hotel.

He'd spent most of that second day with T'Les as well, for it was preferable to spending it in a hotel and he enjoyed the old girl's company, and so they'd spent the day sightseeing in the Vulcan capital, after which they hit a well regarded restaurant, and afterward Trip decided to call it a day. His new command would be at his disposal at 0800, and Trip wanted to be well rested for what would surely be a long day.

"Think nothing of it," said T'Les. "I throughly enjoyed these past two days, and I am appreciative of your work on my vehicle, Trip. Deeply grateful."

"My pleasure, T'Les," said Trip. "We'll have to do this again."

"Definitely," said T'Les.


	44. Chapter 44

— **Chapter 44 —**

* * *

Trip entered Earth's Embassy on Vulcan a few minutes before 0900 hours, and headed for Admiral Ryan's office, for he was expected, but to his surprise Trip found Soval speaking with Ryan.

"Hello, Ambassador," said Trip. "Admiral, I'll be in the waiting room."

"No, come in," said Ryan, waving Trip in. "Trip, join us."

Ryan's large office had a social section, where Ryan and Soval were seated across from each other on twin couches separated by a long rectangular coffee table, and Trip chose an armchair at one end of the coffee table, for the vantage point gave him a good view of Ryan, as well as Soval.

"Thank you again for inviting me to your party, Ambassador," said Trip. "I had a great time."

"I am glad, Captain Tucker," said Soval. "You have a standing invitation to any gatherings held at my house."

Trip murmured his thanks, and Ryan looked at Trip, then said, "The Ambassador came to offer the High Command's condolences for our losses at Alpha Centauri."

"I have done so, but I do not mind repeating myself in this case," said Soval, looking at Trip. "That was a brave stand by the entire squadron, and most assuredly by the Trebia. All of Vulcan is touched by StarFleet's loss, Captain Tucker, and humbled by the commitment to duty shown by the crews of those ships."

"They fought well, but they were outclassed, Ambassador," said Trip. "Those Warbirds are a nightmare."

"Indeed," said Soval. "Now before I leave you both to conduct your business, allow me to express to you both my pleasure that this joint project of ours will be headed by you, Captain Tucker. Feel free to call on me at any time, if you believe that I might be of assistance to you in your new position."

"Thank you, Ambassador," said Trip, and with that Soval made ready to depart, after a few more words with Admiral Ryan as the two left Ryan's office.

"So," said Ryan, once he'd seen Soval to the elevator where the Vulcan's bodyguards waited for him, "do you want to see something that will make your day?"

"Sure, Admiral."

Ryan led Trip to his desk, gestured that he should take a seat, then spun his computer's video monitor around to face Trip.

"Whoa… What the hell is this, sir?" said Trip as the schematics of an entirely new class of ship were displayed on the screen, even as its specs rolled up and off the screen along the right side.

"That's our new Constitution class ship, Captain," said Ryan. "Still early in the development phase, but its the next big thing for us. We're capping the production of the NX class at six ships, and putting all our eggs in this basket. We get this ship out in a reasonable time, it might be our Warbird killer."

"Quite possible, sir," said Trip. "I've got to say, I'm kind of hurt, that I wasn't brought in on this project."

"You can't be everywhere, Captain," said Ryan, "and you're needed here now."

"Aye, sir," said Trip, reading the Constitution's specs, and if the Constitution class was nowhere as graceful as the NX class, she was playing the game on a whole different level. "She's a beast! An extra 330,000 metric tons of mass, Warp 8 capable, six phaser batteries, two photon torpedo tubes, deflector array and defensive shields… Impressive as hell, sir."

"You got that right," said Ryan. "Now forget about this, I just wanted to give you a preview. I'm sure you'll be consulted through development process, so it's not like you're being shut out."

"Well, I appreciate that, sir."

"Good," said Ryan. "Now, are you ready for your new command, Captain?"

"Yes, sir," said Trip.

"Great," said Ryan. "There's a shuttle on the roof. Take it to the Uzh Palik. Your officers are already there, manning the station. The rest of your people start arriving first thing tomorrow morning, so enjoy the peace and quiet while you have it."

"Yes, sir," said Trip, taking Ryan's words for the polite dismissal they were, and minutes later he was boarding the shuttle that would take him to the Uzh Palik.

* * *

"So," said Shran, seated in the Captain's Mess aboard the Enterprise, "how did you enjoy patrolling territory with Imperial Guards, Captain?"

"I liked it just fine," said Archer, "until we murdered a bunch of quite possibly innocent Orions. I'm gonna have nightmares about that, Shran!"

"Oh, your angst is breaking my heart, Captain," said Shran, snickering at the Human's sentimentality. "I assure you they deserved their fate a thousand times over."

"Yeah, ok," said Archer. "Anyway, won't killing those Orions breach the agreement your Emperor reached with the Syndicate, of safety in exchange for information on the Romulans?"

"No," said Shran. "That agreement only states that we will not raid Syndicate space for the duration of the war, so long as they constantly provide us with worthwhile information. That agreement does not give the Orions permission to trespass our territory, and such trespass carries a death sentence for any Orion. They know it. Anyway, if you don't have the stomach to kill pirates and slavers, how will you ever deal with the Romulans?"

Archer was about to spit out a sarcastic reply, but a firm look from T'Pol halted Archer's intended rebuttal, and instead he said, "It's Human custom to give the accused a trial, Shran."

"They were in Andorian space," said Shran. "That's proof enough of their guilt."

"If you say so," said Archer. "Forget about it. That's for StarFleet's Admiralty to sort out, though I'll have to report this incident."

"Do so," said Shran, topping off Archer's shot glass with Andorian ale, and then his own.

"Thank you," said Archer.

"You're sure you won't try some ale, T'Pol?" said Shran.

"No, thank you," said T'Pol.

"What troubles our Vulcan princess this evening?" said Shran, looking at T'Pol with a rakish grin. "You seem even grimmer than the norm for your wretched species."

"Shran," said Archer, "that's enough."

"Fine, she won't talk about her troubles," said Shran, "but I'll get it out of Commander Tucker. Where is the man anyway? Isn't he joining us?"

"Commander Tucker was promoted to captain," said T'Pol, "and no longer serves this ship."

"And that's what's troubling you, isn't it, my pet?" said Shran, for the Andorian was a shrewd judge of character, and he'd noted the slight blush on T'Pol's face when Tucker's name was mentioned. "Let me guess, you had a secret crush on our fine Comman—"

"I said that's enough, Shran," said Archer. "Now I like having you here, but if you can't stop needling T'Pol, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Do not trouble yourself, Captain. I am not hungry anyway," said T'Pol. "I will leave you to your meal, and attend to my meditation."

"T'Pol," said Archer, "there's no need. Shran will behave."

T'Pol just shook her head, and left the room.

"You can be a total asshole sometimes, Shran," said Archer.

"I struck a nerve by mentioning Tucker's name, didn't I?" said Shran, with a grin. "I don't like Vulcans as a matter of principle, but I will apologize to her next time we meet, if it will soothe your ruffled feathers."

"It will," said Jon. "Don't give my XO a rough time, you understand? Now, what do you want to try eating this time?"

"I have been curious about 'fajitas'," said Shran.

"You've made a wise choice, Shran," said Jon. "Chef makes an excellent fajita plate. Grilled skirt steak, fresh tortillas, refried beans, Spanish rice, and he serves all that with grilled onions, charred jalapenos, and four types of salsa."

"What about sopapillas, sprinkled with cinnamon and drizzled with honey, to finish the meal? We need something sweet to end things properly, Captain," said Shran, an overly intent look on his face, considering they were just discussing a meal here.

"Of course, Shran," said Jon, placating the Andorian. "That's a given."

* * *

After leaving the Captain's Mess, T'Pol made way for the Forward Observation Deck, essentially a darkened chamber with comfortable seating for fifteen people and a large floor to ceiling glass wall which allowed for a stunning view outward as the Enterprise made it's way through space. T'Pol had taken to coming here lately in order to avoid her quarters in those times they seemed unbearably confining, which was fairly often these days… and with that, T'Pol spent the next hour thinking of Trip, wryly considering the fact that the man was now essentially based on Vulcan, making himself at home on HER planet, while she herself seemed doomed to travel the void of space forever, a living wraith severed from her planet, her people and her mate, doomed to continue her worthle—

Ugh, thought T'Pol, it is true that my life is going down a sehlat's belly, but perhaps I am still being a bit melodramatic... at least a touch.

* * *

As the shuttle approached the Uzh Palik, Trip's new command assignment, Trip turned to face the pilot from the co-pilot's seat, and said, "Do a flyby, Williams. I want to get a close look at my baby."

"Yes, sir," said the pilot.

"So what's the C stand for, C. Williams? Carol? Candy? Cindy?," said Trip.

The pilot snorted and said, "Canberra."

"Like Australia's capital?" said Trip. "You're kidding."

"No, it's true," said Canberra. "My parents met there, banged their brains out there, conceived me there and got married there, all within the span of a long weekend, then saw fit to brand me with the name Canberra, casting a dark cloud over the rest of my life."

"Don't be silly, Canberra. It's a fine name, and a romantic story," said Trip. "I like it. Canberra. It's kind of hot. It's turning me on, Canberra."

Canberra laughed for it was clear that the man was trolling her, and she said, "Shut the hell up, sir."

Trip was about to drop a smartassed reply on Canberra, but his eyes were drawn to the ever closer Uzh Palik… oh, he'd seen images of it, stored among the various data packets on the PADD unit which Ryan had given him two days earlier, but the images did not do the station justice, not by a long shot. It was a beauty, something like a huge asymetrical boomerang with the starboard wing somewhat longer than the port wing, or maybe the NIKE swish, and as they drew even closer Trip saw the station in better detail, and noted that, as expected, the station was in truth more like seventeen boomerangs, one laid atop the other to create seventeen separate decks in the middle of the station, which thinned down to three decks going towards the wingtips. As typical with Vulcan design, the Uzh Palik was functional and beautiful in equal measure, and Trip couldn't help but laugh aloud with delight at being put in charge of this magnificent vanadium-steel sculpture.

"She's a looker, sir," said Canberra, as she piloted the shuttle into a graceful turn, and then dipped the flyer beneath the station to give Trip a look at her belly. "It looks like a humongous flying wing aircraft. Hell, it looks like it's about to take off for parts unknown at high warp. This old girl looks a lot prettier than the modern shipyards the Vulcans are building now."

"Yeah, you're right, Canberra," said Trip. "This baby's been designed by an artist, not just an engineer, but the Vulcans have made some compromises on beauty in their newer shipyards in order to berth more ships. The Uzh Palik is more of a boutique shipyard in comparison to the new designs. She'll berth 150 ships, while the newer civilian shipyards will berth eight to twelve times that many."

"I see," said Canberra.

"If you fly by the Torrask Sil after you drop me off," said Trip, pointing out a larger civilian shipyard far in the distance, "you'll see what I mean. Those yards are huge, sixty, eighty decks stacked atop the other - pretty in their own way, but not like this."

"Well, don't worry about it, Captain, this shipyard is big enough to keep you busy," said Canberra.

"Yeah, it is," said Trip, looking at the station anew.

He'd gotten used to the scale of the larger Vulcan shipyards, but the Uzh Palik was easily three times as big as anything that StarFleet had built… it was only it's length, at 3,905ft, and the way it tapered from the middle core toward the wingtips, which gave the Uzh Palik such seeming grace: in truth, Canberra was right, this shipyard was huge.

"All right," said Trip, "take us in, Canberra."

"My friends call me Mickey."

"That's cute," said Trip. "Well thanks for the lift, Canberra."

"You can call me Mickey, Captain Tucker," said Canberra with a smile: this captain was less of an asshat than most.

"You got it, Mickey," said Trip. "See you on the next milk run."

"Right," said Mickey, and with that Trip stepped onto the deck of his new command.

He looked about the shuttle bay, noted a half dozen shuttles spread about bay, and nodded, pleased. This was the smallest of the Uzh Palik's shuttle bays and it was reserved for officers and VIPs, but even so, it was easily six times the size of the Columbia's shuttle bay. That was the one thing which Trip remembered from his time aboard the T'Lek Sor: freed of the spatial constraints imposed by spaceship design, space stations of all types tended to be much more generous with allocating space for both people and equipment.

"Captain Tucker."

Trip turned at the sound of his name, to see a middle aged Vulcan female approaching him. He gave her the ta'al.

"Welcome, Captain," said the Vulcan returning the ta'al. "I am SubCommander Senva, your First Officer."

"It's good to meet you, SubCommander," said Trip, having already recognized Senva before she'd even introduced herself, from his review of the personnel files. "It was kind of you to meet me here."

Senva waved it off, and said, "Allow me to show you to your quarters, Captain."

"Thank you," said Trip, for though he'd already memorized the layout of the entire facility, Trip appreciated Senva's gesture for what it was, a token of courtesy.

"How do we stand on personnel?" said Trip, and he and Senva rode the lift to Deck 15, which contained the officer's quarters.

"Our entire cadre of officers are at their stations now," said Senva, "and Control is fully staffed of course. Our first work crews will be at their stations first thing in the morning, and we will run three, ten hour shifts, day in, day out."

Trip nodded, understanding the sense of it all: it took Vulcan thirty hours to make a full rotation through day and a night, and so running three ten hour shifts was the logical thing to do here.

"We are expecting shipments of specialized technical equipment, tools, shop manuals, everything needed to service the ships of every species in our federation," said Senva, "as well as twenty engineers of each Federation species, to serve as consultants. All that equipment and those consultants will arrive here within the first five days."

"Good," said Trip: the majority of the workers on the Uzh Palik were Vulcans, some 1,200 hundred of them working each shift, but those alien engineering consultants would be invaluable in getting a running start.

The lift reached Deck 15 and Senva led the way out at Trip's gesture, then headed for the captain's quarters.

"Here we are," said Senva, stopping at the door to the captain's quarters. "The door is unsecured now, but you may choose your security measures from inside your quarters, whether you choose palm print access, ocular reader or an alpha-numerical password."

Trip nodded, familiar with such things, and said, "I appreciate the courtesy, SubCommander. Senior officers meeting in Conference Room 1. Two hours from now."

"Yes, Captain," said Senva, and with that the Vulcan left Trip to his own devices.

Trip stepped through the doors of his quarters, and whistled aloud. Compared to his quarters aboard the Columbia, these quarters were palatial, with a large bedroom, and huge living room which incorporated a discreet office space raised on a slight dais, as well as another slight dais, which held a small 4 seat dining table, and next to that a small, but functional kitchen. Best of all, the entire southern end of his quarters contained a huge, end to end, top to bottom, solid window, giving the occupant a breathtaking view of Vulcan, in the same vein as the Enterprise's Observation Deck.

Considering the elegant construction, quality materials and superlative design, these quarters gave off the vibe of a high end penthouse apartment, a far cry from his quarters on the Columbia, and all in all, Trip was quite satisfied with his new command. Quite satisfied.

* * *

**the Constitution class mentioned here is the class of ship which Kirk commanded in the tv show, and was suggested for inclusion to this story, by orionastro - not sure if it will become an active part of the story, but it would seem fitting to develop a larger, more powerful class of ships during a time of war.


	45. Chapter 45

— **Chapter 45 —**

* * *

Two weeks had passed since the battle of Alpha Centauri, and the death of the Trebia had lit a fire under every member of the federation, especially the Humans, whose fleet ventured out into space with a whole new sense of purpose, aggression and pride, for after the Columbia had destroyed a Romulan Bird-of-Prey, and Trebia had destroyed a Warbird, it was clear that the Romulans were not invincible.

Now StarFleet vessels cruised out in small packs of 3 or 5 ships, actively hunting Romulans, and were themselves hunted in turn, and though the fleet lost another nine Delus ships, they also took out five Birds-of-Prey, which was an impressive showing for Earth's young navy… what's more, the bloody Romulan attacks meant to demoralize Earth actually drove recruitment for StarFleet to such levels that the fleet had more volunteers than it could ever hope to process, so HQ skimmed the very best people right off the top, and pushed them through an intense and comprehensive training program which was guaranteed to make them an asset to whichever ship they were assigned.

* * *

In that same two weeks Trip had brought order to what had been an initially chaotic scene as the Uzh Palik was populated, activated and mobilized to function as a shipyard for the first time in some eighty years. As he'd suspected, the Vulcans had maintained the shipyard quite well, for even older assets of this class had a high financial value, but it took three days to get the crew squared away, five days for the kitchens and the MEDICAL offices to be fully stocked and operational. The Control Center, usually just abbreviated to Control, was analogous to the starship's Bridge and it was fully staffed and ready to go from day one, of course, for Control was the brains of the whole operation.

And as Trip stepped into the Control this day, he made eye contact with SubCommander Senva, his First Officer, and Trip motioned with his head, that she should head for the captain's office, situated right off Control, much like a captain's Ready Room aboard a starship, though given the surfeit of room on this massive station the First Officer had her own office as well, although Trip's office had a better view of the shipyard's bays, as well as the planet below.

Once inside his office, Senva stood at attention before the captain's desk, as Trip moved round the desk to take his seat.

"Take a seat, SubCommander," said Trip. "Please."

Senva sat and the two discussed station's business for the next thirty minutes or so, until the Comm officer notified Trip that he had a transmission from Vulcan.

"Listen," said Trip, looking at Senva. "Take four hours off. Go eat lunch, take a nap, meditate, do whatever you need to do, SubCommander. We need to pace ourselves, because we're in this for the long haul."

"Yes, Captain," said Senva.

Trip pressed the comm button once Senva left the room, and as the video screen flickered to life, Trip smiled broadly.

"Hello, Trip."

"T'Les!" said Trip, pleased to hear from the Vulcan: since their first time hanging out, they'd kept in touch through email, but this was the first time he'd seen her in two weeks. "How are you, my dear?"

"I am well, Captain," said T'Les. "How goes your new command this day?"

"Well enough. I'm glad you called me back," said Trip, for he'd left a message which asked T'Les to call him at her convenience.

"Of course," said T'Les, "What is on your mind?"

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?" said Trip.

"Nothing that I can not delay," said T'Les.

"Great. How do you feel about attending a performance show, and then getting a bite to eat afterward," said Trip. "Are you game?"

"That I am," said T'Les, quite pleased at the thought of spending time with Trip. "I look forward to it, Trip."

A few minutes passed as they exchanged relevant information as well as some idle chatter, after which they both went about their day. For Trip, that meant some aggravations, large and small, but that was part and parcel of both Engineering and Command, so Trip rolled with it well enough. However, there was one highlight to the entire day, and it was more than enough to make up for everything else.

Trip had just stepped into Control for one last check before the end of his day, when Uslek, third in the chain of command, noted Trip and drew close.

"A parcel was delivered in your name, Captain," said Uslek. "I left it on your desk."

"What is it?" said Trip.

"I have no idea," said Uslek. "One of our ships dropped it off, and unless it came from a trusted source, the parcel would have been inspected by Security. Our ship would not have accepted delivery of it otherwise, or passed it on to us, so I do not expect foul play."

"Ok, thanks," said Trip, and a few moments later he entered his office, curious now.

The package was about sixteen inches high, nine inches wide, and it was covered in red silk, and secured with a black silk ribbon brought into a bow on one side… what the hell?

It took Trip a minute to neatly unwrap the box, as the packaging was too good to carelessly destroy, and once he'd laid the silk aside, Trip gently lifted the top of the box from the base… to view a beautiful sculpture of a leaping le-matya, the feline Vulcan predator which he'd first seen as a work in progress in T'Fel's cabin not all that long ago, and on seeing that, Trip laughed with delight. It was a wonderful work of art on its own merits, but given its maker, it was priceless.

A note rested neatly at the base of the statue and Trip reached for it gladly, for he'd missed T'Fel deeply. The note was just about what he'd expected of her, and it was sweet, innocent and joyful, save for one discordant note at the end, where she said: Beware the le-matya, Trip. She draws ever closer, and she hungers for your flesh.

Without further ado, Trip slipped the box back atop the sculpture and headed for his quarters, as he meant to give the sculpture a place of honor in his private space.

* * *

The next day was more of the same, and Trip finally called it a day at 1800 hours. He swung by his quarters where he showered and changed into a stylish gray linen suit he'd purchased his last time on Risa, after which he made his way off the Uzh Palik, headed for the small spaceport serving T'Les's neighborhood, where commuter shuttles found berth, and passengers found hire-cars to ferry them to their final destination.

"Trip!" said T'Les, waving at the man, for she'd driven her own car here to meet Trip at the shuttle port.

"Hi, T'Les," said Trip, forgetting himself and giving T'Les a small kiss on the cheek, "it's good to see you. You look beautiful."

That was no exaggeration, for T'Les was dressed in an elegantly tailored black silk Vulcan dress, accented with some silver touches, and the robes went perfectly with his gray suit, but then they'd coordinated their attire earlier.

"As do you," said T'Les, leading Trip towards her car. "So, what are we doing tonight?"

"It's a surprise," said Trip.

* * *

T'Pol had just finished her shift on the Bridge and returned to her own quarters, where she came across a bit of unexpected information in an email from her mother, and it came as close to flustering T'Pol as anything which had happened during her association with StarFleet and the Enterprise, for T'Les had shared with T'Pol the fact that she and Captain Tucker were dating, and she described the circumstances under which she'd met Captain Tucker at Soval's party, the time they'd spent together two weeks ago during which he'd spent the night at her house, and shared as well, their plans to attend some type of entertainment show that very evening.

"What the hell is going on?!" said T'Pol, throughly bewildered, her mind blown at the thought of Trip and T'Les willingly spending time together, and actually enjoying each other's company: it was unbelievable!

As for the dating bit, that was surely a misunderstanding on T'Les' part! Surely that!

Taking a seat at her desk, T'Pol's fingers flew over her computer's keyboard as she wrote a feverish email to her mother, strongly requesting clarification and expansion upon her 'dating' status with Captain Tucker, after which T'Pol threw herself face first onto her bed, praying desperately that her head might not explode at the unbelievable concept of Trip and T'Les genuinely dating, as Humans understood the term.

* * *

"Oh, this was a great idea, Trip," said T'Les, turning her head to look at the man.

She and Trip were seated in one of the smaller performance centers of the capital city, a relatively small space with room for only nineteen hundred patrons, but a space so well designed with balconies and rising floors to ensure that each seat was a great seat.

"I hope you'll enjoy it, T'Les," said Trip. "This dance troupe is from Earth's country of Ireland, and they'll be performing a series of traditional Irish dances, to the accompaniment of music."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful!" said T'Les. "You know, I have actually seen one of your ballet companies dance, two years ago."

"Good," said Trip. "Than you'll have a chance to contrast and compare the two dance styles. It may interest you to know that there's an ongoing and vicious internecine war between ballet dancers and Irish dancers, with numerous casualties on both sides."

"Truly?" said T'Les, finding it hard to imagine such graceful creatures as dancers, bludgeoning each other to death with blunt instruments. "A war?"

"Well, not literally, T'Les," said Trip. "Actually, it's more like a never ending stream of passive-aggressive catty behavior from the ballerinas towards the Irish dancers, and a series of snide looks and shit eating grins from the Irish lasses towards the ballerinas."

"Oh, I see," said T'Les. "How dramatic! On which side of the conflict do you stand?"

"I have not yet decided," said Trip. "The grace of the ballet is undeniable, but Irish dancers have so much cheek, so much passion, so much excitement… to choose between the two is quite difficult."

"Must you choose?" said T'Les. "Are you not allowed to enjoy them both?"

"Actually, I am," said Trip, pleased at the loophole which T'Les' logic had provided him.

Just then, the house lights dimmed, announcing the start of the performance and all eyes faced front, even as the dulcet tones of an Irish flute sounded through the performance hall, and the dancers began moving slowly to the center of the stage in a series of stylized movements, all in preparation for an explosion of sound, light and motion, which characterized the very best of Irish dance performances… and after a stunning two hour performance, Trip & T'Les hit a Vulcan restaurant for a light dinner, during which T'Les bubbled the entire time over the wonder of the night's performance, and though Trip had also enjoyed the show, his pleasure could not equal T'Les', for she'd never seen such wondrous dance before.

All in all, it had been an outstanding night.

* * *

The next week was more of the same for Trip aboard the Uzh Palik, and the station was now functional, and she'd already serviced a half dozen StarFleet vessels, and two Andorian, for although the Andorians didn't really trust the Vulcans, they acknowledged the fact that during the course of war, Andorian ships might be too damaged to make it home, and be forced to rely upon this shipyard for repairs. What's more, the station had also serviced some forty civilian cargo ships, thirty-five Human, and five Denobulan, for while military ships would always be this shipyard's first priority, civilian ships would also find berth here if the workload allowed them to be serviced. The only change in the constant routine of never ending improvement aboard the Uzh Palik came at the end of that week, when SubCommander Senva caught Trip on his way for Deck 8.

"Captain," said Senva. "A moment of your time if you please."

"What is it, Senva?" said Trip.

"Before you run off, seven of our new officers are close to finishing their briefing, in Conference Room 1," said Senva.

"Ok…"

"I thought they might find it motivational to hear a few words from the captain of this facility," said Senva, "to welcome them aboard. It is a Vulcan custom."

"All right," said Trip. "How long before that briefing is concluded?"

"Approximately seventeen minutes," said Senva.

"Tell you what," said Trip. "When their briefing is over, send them to my office."

"Will do," said Senva.

And with that Trip headed for his office, where he killed the next twenty minutes getting an overview of the day's progress.

Eventually, his comm unit chimed twice as Senva's way of telling Trip that his visitors were on the way, and moments later the new batch of officers entered his office. The first six Vulcans to enter the room were just about what he'd expected: the seventh was not, for the seventh was T'Fel. Trip could not help but smile a bit at the sight of her, though by all rights he'd have laughed maniacally with joy, if not for the presence of the others in the room.

Trip came around the desk and gave these officers the ta'al, and the Vulcans stood at attention as they gave their names and specialty. Once the introductions had been completed, Trip gave them all a short speech, expressing his pleasure at having such fine officers assigned to this facility, as well as his hope that they'd all learn and grow in the process of building this facility into a shipyard second to none when it came to quality. With that, he dismissed them all, save for T'Fel.

"I'd like to have a few words with you, Sr-Lieutenant," said Trip. "I have some questions regarding your specialty."

T'Fel nodded and remained at attention while the other Vulcans exited the room, at which point, Trip looked fondly at T'Fel.

"It's good to have you with us, T'Rel, but—"

"It is T'Fel, Captain Tucker," said the Vulcan, a look of slight amusement on her face.

"Oh? Apologies."

Trip looked T'Fel over now, head to toe, smiled, then said, "As I was saying it's good to have you with us, T'Kel—"

"It is still T'Fel, Captain Tucker."

"Ok, T'Fel... T'Fel... I have it now," said Trip. "Anyway, I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into by coming here, T'Fel."

"How do you mean that, Captain Tucker?" said T'Fel, looking innocently at Trip.

Trip walked slowly round T'Fel, and stopped directly behind her.

"You will likely find your service at this station most demanding, T'Fel," said Trip, "and I must tell you that working here will require great… sacrifices."

With that, Trip kissed the Vulcan's neck, even as his hands slid down her body, and drew her close.

"I understand," said T'Fel, looking straight ahead, though the ghost of a smile clung to her lips.

"I don't think that you do, T'Fel," said Trip, after another round of kisses to the back and sides of the Vulcan's neck. "You may be called to duty, day or night, and you must respond… for the good of the Uzh Palik."

"Oh, but I do understand, Captain Tucker," said T'Fel, turning round to face Trip, and then cupping the man's face in her hands, "and I stand ready to do my duty… for the good of the Uzh Palik."

With that T'Fel kissed Trip at length, and that kiss was so good that the man began whimpering like a lost pup, even as the integrity of their lip lock never wavered… not for a second.


	46. Chapter 46

— **Chapter 46 —**

* * *

"Mayday, mayday!" said Ensign Sato from the Bridge of the Enterprise, transmitting not just a call for assistance, but also the Enterprise's position as the ship moved through space at Warp 5.1, while being pursued by two Romulan ships. "Enterprise in need of assistance from any armed Federation ships. All civilian ships hearing this transmission should head for safety immediately. Mayday. Mayday!"

The Enterprise just did a barrel roll, then rose quickly at a 72 degree angle even as it did two more barrel rolls, and all this at speeds that rightly petrified every member of the ship, save the Helmsman, Ensign Travis Mayweather, in whose capable hands the crew's fate rested.

"Mayday! Mayday!" said Sato, too focused on her task to let her fears overcome her at this particular moment.

Four spheres of searing plasma just missed the Enterprise as Travis executed a steep dive, heading directly for an asteroid field, for the Ensign was flying by his own stars, as Archer was smart enough to know he had the best Helmsman in the fleet, and the captain was wise enough to let him do what he did best…

"Mayday! Mayday!"

Just then the Enterprise plunged into the asteroid field, and Lt-Commander Reed said, "Helm, take us by those large asteroids at D19-U10—A331."'

"Yes, sir," said Travis, and performed a graceful, semi-circular flight directly for the ordered coordinates.

Archer tried to guess Reed's purpose as the ship made way for the asteroids, but Reed was tapping feverishly on his keyboard, either giving orders, or making calculations, so Archer held his tongue…

"Vorlana to Enterprise," said a Vulcan voice over the Bridge's Comm system. "We are on an intercept course at best speed. Please adjust your heading to maximize our chances of contact."

"I have their coordinates, Captain," said T'Pol, doing a series of mental calculations. "At our present speed, and assuming the Vorlana maintains best speed, we will make contact with each other in 2.8 hours."

"Right," said Archer, uncertain that Travis could keep the Enterprise dancing for that long: and if Travis couldn't do it, they'd have to turn and fight against very bad odds.

Just then, the Enterprise passed the asteroids Reed had called out, and as the Enterprise passed those stone monoliths, two photon torpedoes launched from the StarFleet vessel struck the asteroids, breaking them just in front of the pursuing Romulans, much too late for the Romulans to alter heading at their speed. Unfortunately, the Romulans got lucky, and though one of the ships made a glancing contact with a shuttle sized rock, the ship's shields essentially bounced the ship aside, without any seeming damage, though that was probably not truly the case. Still, the Romulans kept coming.

* * *

"So, how was your day?" said T'Fel.

She'd been on the way to her quarters, when she'd spotted Trip taking his ease in one of the observation lounges.

"Hey," said Trip, looking up at T'Fel with a smile on his face: he gestured that T'Fel should sit and join him. "Just finished your shift?"

"Yes," said T'Fel, then looked up as a Vulcan waitress stepped up to the table.

"Captain, Sr-Lieutenant," said the waitress. "A drink? Something to eat?"

"I will take a pot of redweed tea, please," said T'Fel.

"I'll have a tall iced coffee with coconut milk and brown sugar, please," said Trip. "And bring a chessboard please."

The waitress returned with a Vulcan 3D chess set, Trip's iced coffee and a small cast iron pot of hot tea for T'Fel, and a small teacup.

"Anything else, sirs?" said the waitress.

T'Fel murmured a thanks and shook her head, and Trip said, "We're good, thank you."

A few minutes to set up the chessboards, then Trip began playing T'Fel, seasoning their titanic struggle with a healthy dose of casual chatter.

"Checkmate," said T'Fel, seven minutes later.

Trip growled and reset the board, and they began playing again.

"Checkmate," said T'Fel ten minutes later, an amused look on her face. "We can quit playing chess anytime you like, Captain."

"It's the multi-level nature of this chess set that's messing with my head, T'Fel!" said Trip. "On a single level, I could take you to school."

"We can play single level chess if you like, Captain," said T'Fel.

"No!" said Trip. "I'm too wound up to play now! Back to my quarters, I need to vent this frustration through some aggressive sex!"

T'Fel raised brow at that, and said, "With whom?"

"With you!" said Trip, as he laid out some credits on the table as a tip for the civilian waitress.

"Lucky me," said T'Fel, with the mere hint of a lopsided smile on the Vulcan's face which made it clear that she looked forward to the coming bout.

* * *

Against the odds, Travis had kept the Enterprise dancing long enough to make contact with the Vorlana, though it was a close thing, for just before the Vorlana came to the rescue, a Romulan plasma torpedo struck the Enterprise just below the warp nacelle and burned through the supporting pylon, sending the nacelle spinning off into deep space, while the Enterprise immediately dropped out of warp, as its warp field was destabilized beyond compensation.

No matter, Archer was ready to sell his ship's life dearly, and it was to Reed's credit that he worked hand in glove with Mayweather to preserve the Enterprise while doing some damage in the process, and all that despite the odds. Still, everyone aboard the Enterprise breathed a sigh of relief when the Vorlana warped in some eight thousand meters above the Enterprise, unleashing a salvo of weapons fire the moment it dropped out of warp.

That first weapons salvo vaporized one of the Romulan ships instantly, which prompted the other ship to warp away at top speed: a Romulan Warbird was more than a match for one of the huge Vulcan combat cruisers, but a Bird-of-Prey was nowhere close to a match, and so that ship's rapid flight was well advised. Not that it mattered, for the Vorlana pursued the Romulan ship, and destroyed it before enough time had passed for that ship to reactivate it's cloaking field... and with that successful outcome, the Vorlana grasped the Enterprise in its tractor beam, and set course for the nearest shipyard capable of repairing the Human ship, the first Federation shipyard, the Uzh Palik.

* * *

It was a few minutes before 0600 hours when Trip woke without the alarm clock's assistance, and he rose from his bed gently, meaning to give T'Fel a few minutes more of sleep. He showered and shaved in short order, then began getting dressed, for an early start to his day.

T'Fel was still asleep at 0635 hours, and it was time to wake her, so Trip stood over the sleeping Vulcan, then bent down, kissed her forehead, and said, "Let's go, princess! Wake up!"

T'Fel muttered something intelligible, so Trip turned on the reading light over his bed, and T'Fel moaned and buried her face in Trip's pillow, which just made Trip laugh aloud.

"How the hell do you ever wake up when you sleep alone?" said Trip, dragging the blankets off T'Fel, despite the Vulcan's solid grasp on them, and then he grabbed hold of her, and picked the girl in his arms, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to the bathroom, where he set her down on the sink vanity counter top.

"Ugh! Let me sleep! Pleaaassseeee," said T'Fel, her head resting on Trip's shoulder, even as her legs wrapped around his.

"No, really," said Trip. "I want to know how you wake up without me."

"It is your fault I can barely stay awake!" said T'Fel, looking up at Trip, with eyes still clouded by dreams. "You kept me up all night!"

"Well, toughen up, cookie. I've got to go now. See you in the real world " said Trip, and with that he stole a kiss from T'Fel. "Unfortunately we've got a long day ahead of us."

* * *

Trip's parting words to T'Fel had been truer than he might have expected, for just as he made Control, a heart rending sight was the start of his day, when the Vorlana warped in some 6,500 meters away from the Uzh Palik, with the Enterprise in tow under its belly, and the sight of the broken Enterprise was a tragic one.

"Fucking Romulans!" said Trip, then looked to his Comm officer. "Contact the Enterprise."

Moments later a view of the Enterprise's Bridge showed up on Control's main monitor, and Trip made eye contact with Jon.

"What the hell happened out there, Captain?" said Trip.

"We just got our asses kicked, that's what happened," said Jon, giving a rueful smile. "Thankfully the Vorlana showed up before we went down for the count."

"Our Medical teams are standing by to assist your crew, Captain," said Trip.

"No need," said Jon. "Nothing Phlox can't handle, thankfully."

"Understood," said Trip. "You mind connecting me with Dillard? I'd like to get the technical scoop from the man himself."

"Sure," said Jon, and with that the comm stream passed to Engineering.

"Hey, Captain," said Dillard, looking a bit distraught. "How you doing?"

"Better than you," said Trip with a smile, for it was good to see Dillard. "I left you the ship in pristine order, now look at it!"

"Talk to the Romulans about it, Captain," said Dillard, clearly frustrated.

"Get things squared away aboard the Enterprise, and then come to an engineer's meeting in two hours time. Conference room 9 on the Uzh Palik, and bring a full damage report," said Trip. "We'll get you squared away, Dillard."

"I'd appreciate that, Captain," said Dillard. "See you then."

Trip severed the connection, and looked at Senva.

"Please contact the Vorlana, have your people conduct and in depth scan of the Enterprise, and forward those scans to my office," said Trip, for although the Uzh Palik could perform a scan, the Vorlana's sensors were of more recent manufacture, and thus more accurate. "I'd like to get a jump start on understanding the damage they've suffered."

"Will do," said Senva. "Where do you want to put the Enterprise?"

"Bay 47," said Trip. "Who's the lead engineer for 47?"

"Veslek," said Senva.

"Please direct him and his lieutenants to conference room 9, two hours from now," said Trip.

Senva nodded.

"I'm going to take a look at the rest of the day's business," said Trip, "before I get tangled up with the Enterprise."

"Yes, Captain."

Moments later, Trip was seated in his office, waiting for the Vorlana's scans of the Enterprise to reach his computer, when the comm unit chimed, and Trip answered it, to see Jon's mug on the screen.

"Hey, Jon," said Trip.

"I thought you'd have Dillard bounce the comm stream back to the Bridge," said Jon.

"I wanted to get a grasp on the technical situation before we talked," said Trip. "You've taken a nasty blow, Jon, so I've asked the Vorlana to scan the Enterprise and forward me their readings, and Dillard's working it from his end, so we'll have a good idea where we stand in two hours."

"All right," said Jon. "Admiral Ryan is flying up here to take stock of the situation personally so we'll talk later.

"Sure enough," said Trip.

* * *

It had taken close to forty minutes for six small, boxy starships to take control of the Enterprise from the Vorlana's tractor beam and then neatly maneuver the ship into Bay 47, and then an hour longer to pressurize and oxygenate the bay.

The Uzh Palik had two type of docking bays: pressurized bays in which ships were serviced in an oxygenated environment provided with artificial gravity, and unpressurized bays in which the work was conducted by engineers in EV suits in open space, but Bay 47 was pressurized so by the time that Ryan reached the Enterprise he simply walked across a small extension bridge to reach the Enterprise's Access Hatch, after spending a few minutes gazing at the damage which the ship had suffered.

"Admiral," said T'Pol, there to greet Ryan at the Access Hatch. "Good to see you."

"Likewise, T'Pol," said Ryan pleasantly, for he'd always liked T'Pol.

"The captain's speaking with some of our engineers, but I have told him that you have boarded the ship," said T'Pol. "He asks that we meet him in the Situation Room."

Ryan nodded, and minutes later they stepped onto the Bridge, and then headed to the back of the Bridge, to a discreet area which was named the Situation Room. Archer was already there, and the captain saluted Ryan when he and T'Pol stepped on the Bridge.

"Close call, Jon," said Ryan.

"Yes, sir," said Jon.

With that, Jon gestured towards the graphics table, a rectangular table with a large video monitor installed as the actual tabletop, and useful in that fashion for easy viewing of visual data. A schematic of the Enterprise was the only item on display at the moment, and since this image showed the missing nacelle, it was apparent that this schematic was produced by a recent sensor scan.

"We have twelve casualties as a result of this encounter," said Jon, "but thankfully none are too bad. A few broken bones, some bruises and a few teeth missing from a crewman's mouth, but nothing more than that. I wish I could say the same for the ship."

Jon tapped the video monitor on the damaged pylon which had held a nacelle, and that area was isolated and displayed prominently.

"Dillard tells me this entire pylon needs to be removed and replaced," said Jon, "and I'm hoping you can help us out there."

"How?" said Ryan.

"I'm told that it would take four or five months to manufacture the pylon and the nacelle," said Jon. "We need to remove a pylon from an NX already under construction and install it on the Enterprise. They can afford that type of delay. We can't."

"I'll get it done," said Ryan, understanding the logic of Archer's argument. "What does Tucker say about this job?"

"About the same as Dillard," said Archer. "They've gathered data, and they've scheduled a meeting to discuss the matter in depth, and plan a proper course of action."

"A meeting?" said Ryan. "When?"

Jon consulted his watch and said, "Ten minutes from now."

"So let's go," said Ryan. "I'd like to sit in on that meeting."

* * *

The walk through the Uzh Palik's corridors, after leaving the relative confines of the Enterprise, made the size discrepancy quite noticeable, for where the Enterprise had relatively roomy ten foot wide corridors, the Uzh Palik's main corridors were easily forty feet wide, with one major corridor on each deck some sixty feet wide, which made sense given the sheer volume of men and materials which had to move through these corridors on a daily basis.

"This place is impressive as hell," said Ryan.

"The Uzh Palik was commissioned 312 years ago," said T'Pol who had done a bit of research on the shipyard lately, "and mothballed for the past few decades, as my people switched to newer shipyard designs which maximized the number of ships our yards can service."

"Well, it's still a beauty," said Archer.

The captain was truly impressed by not just the size of this place, but the sheer artistry on display, for if everything was functional, it also contained touches of beauty at every turn. The steel walls which lined this corridor were functional, but the plain steel was marked and etched at every intersection in a variety of abstract geometric designs, the heavy duty turbo-lift tubes still had their original bronze doors, and even the steel floor on which they walked had been chemically treated with something which made it seem to be a metallic navy-blue stone… and that was beside the bronze light wells which had the appearance of snowflakes under a microscope, all crystalline shapes, not one of them the same as the others, beautiful curves apparent everywhere, though they were regularly offset to an interesting effect when contrasted with the straight lines which were also an integral part of this shipyards's construction… This station truly was a functional work of art, and Jon wagered that Trip was already in love with the place.

"Here we are," said T'Pol, for she'd been reading the Vulcan alpha-numerical glyphs on the walls: eventually, these signs would have to be duplicated in every other language of the Federation species, or a common language would have to be agreed upon.

As Jon, Ryan and T'Pol entered the conference room, it was clear that the meeting had already kicked off, for the lights were dimmed and a large schematic of the Enterprise's systems was projected onto one of the matte white walls, and that schematic was subdivided in four panes, displaying the structural systems, electrical systems, comm systems and the power conduit systems which transferred the energy of the matter/anti-matter engine to the warp nacelles.

The three late-comers sat on the edge of the group of engineers already assembled here, everyone listening as Captain Tucker addressed the Vulcans in their own tongue, and although T'Pol followed the conversation perfectly well, Jon and Ryan were lost… that problem was solved when a Vulcan Ensign dropped off two translator units with ear buds, and with that, they were all off to the races, for although translator units could be thrown off in the case of many conflicting speakers, a single speaker presented no problems.

"…verkell des aforr entiannat umat," said Trip and tapped his fingers over the structural schematic. "Demottse vilku seprajt alsone itirak. Asjel de unsat…"

Lost among the group of people in the room, T'Pol watched Trip continue the presentation in Vulcan, and her heart ached… it was so good to see him again, so good to see him in his element here, clearly in control of the room, clearly fitting in so well in the oddest of places, a Vulcan station, manned largely by Vulcans, and most surprising of all was his virtual mastery of her mother tongue.

"Tosot nielarr itter'nab, to'vad Tucker?" called an anonymous voice from the group: 'How long to complete that task, Captain Tucker?'

"Selet apka tutturno'espak," said Trip: 'Ten days for that task alone.'

The Vulcan who'd asked that question, grunted agreeably at Trip's answer, and Trip continued speaking, drawing the group's attention to another part of the schematic, this time emphasizing the power conduit cables, and tracing their course through the pylon to the nacelle, and T'Pol followed his meaning easily, for although her strength was science by virtue of education and training, she'd picked up quite a bit of practical engineering knowledge over the past two years from Captain Tucker himself, as well as her own efforts to understand the systems of the Enterprise, in order to make a more effective partner for…

T'Pol sighed at that, understandably agitated at how far they'd fallen, she and her mate… This whole thing between them was a nightmare.

"Deslen ist atturval drianat fossen," said Trip: 'Do not deviate from the path I've laid out for you..."

Trip pressed a clicker and the subdivided schematic was replaced with a schematic of the power delivery cables and their integration with the warp nacelles.

And so Trip moved through his presentation in a purposeful way, never hesitating to pull back, and elucidate a point if someone had questions, always thorough, always patient, always focused, but as the presentation went on the questions diminished, and eventually disappeared for Trip covered the entire process from several angles, and after a two hour presentation, the coming task of removing and replacing the damaged pylon with a new pylon and nacelle was firmly grasped by every engineer in attendance.

"Tullurek asfordan?" said Trip: 'Any questions?'.

No questions were posed, and with that, Trip pressed a button on his remote and the room brightened, and he called an end to the presentation. The Vulcan engineers spoke with Trip briefly, praising his presentation, and then left the room. Two of Dillard's lieutenants were the next to leave, though Dillard remained behind, speaking with Trip, and that was when Jon, Ryan and T'Pol approached Trip.

"Ah, Admiral," said Trip, as he and Dillard saluted Ryan.

"That was a hell of a presentation, Captain," said Ryan. "I'm glad I sat in on it. It was most informative."

"Thank you, sir," said Trip, feeling T'Pol's eyes on him, but unwilling to face her now, surrounded by all these people.

"I've heard good things so far of the work that's happening here," said Ryan. "How long to get the Enterprise back in action?"

"Five weeks, sir," said Trip, "and the clock starts running only after we get a replacement pylon and nacelle here. But five weeks, with engineers working on the ship around the clock, Admiral. Until we get the replacement pylon and nacelle, we'll start tearing the old pylon off the Enterprise, so that we're ready to move on with the next phase at the proper time."

Ryan nodded, and said, "Five weeks is better than I expected, Captain. Ok, I'm headed back for Vulcan to put things in motion, get a pylon and nacelle shipped here."

"Thank you, sir," said Trip.

With that Ryan nodded to Trip, as did Archer, and the two headed for the admiral's shuttle, while T'Pol remained behind, and she and Trip made eye contact.

"How are you, T'Pol?" said Trip with a slight smile. "You look good, and it's good to see you."

It was true, for though it was possible to purposely dismiss T'Pol from his thoughts in the normal course of his day, probably because he'd been so disciplined in pushing her away, with her standing here it was much harder, for despite the ugly feelings which he'd still not fully released there were good memories as well, and it was time to forget the bad, and hold on to the good still left behind.

"As a matter of fact, Captain," said T'Pol, "I am not well. We need to talk."

"Can it wait?" said Trip. "My people are starting work on the Enterprise even as we speak, and I should be there."

"No, it can not wait, Trip," said T'Pol. "Surely you can spare some time for me now."

"All right," said Trip, after a moment's consideration. "You want to talk, let's talk. Follow me."

The walk to Trip's office was conducted in silence, but the man felt the Vulcan's eyes on him practically the whole way there, and their link gave him a foreshadowing of their upcoming discussion.

"Have a seat," said Trip when they finally reached his office, pointing at a grouping of three couches forming a U at one end of Trip's office.

"Thank you," said T'Pol, looking curiously around the large office, for in comparison to the relatively cramped quarters possible aboard a starship, this office seemed palatial, easily some 2,000 feet, with three separate work areas, and two social areas, all tastefully furnished.

"You want some coffee, or tea?" said Trip. "Some sake or Andorian ale?"

"No, thank you."

"Ok," said Trip, and moments later, he took a seat across from T'Pol. "You wanted to talk, so talk."

T'Pol took a few moments to gather her thoughts, then said, "While you served aboard the T'Lek Sor, you witnessed Vulcans enter the pon'farr. You told me so, when you returned to the Enterprise."

Trip nodded, and said, "Yes."

"What you may or may not know," said T'Pol "is that the pon'farr is just a part of our mating cycle."

"If you're working your way around to telling me that we're Bonded, I'm aware of that fact," said Trip.

"You are?" said T'Pol, breathing deeply now.

"Yes," said Trip. "I was curious about the things I witnessed aboard the T'Lek Sor, so I discussed them at length with Administrator Volok. He spoke to me of the Bond."

"I see," said T'Pol, uncertain of how next to proceed.

"What's more," said Trip, "since I left the Enterprise I've had a number of dreams and daydreams which seem to imply that you and I are mentally linked to some degree… that implication was confirmed for me during our crew swap discussions, as I could actually sense some of your thoughts, and emotions."

"Do you realize how precious a thing that is, Trip?" said T'Pol, focused intently on her mate.

"I can understand why you might see it that way," said Trip.

"But you do not see it the same way," said T'Pol, displeased by her mate's seeming detachment from the process. "You are willing to withhold your participation from this Bond over our disagreement?"

"Say instead that I'm not willing to be ruled by the Bond," said Trip. "Look, I've largely moved on from the mental place I occupied at the time I left the Enterprise, T'Pol. I'm not angry at you, I don't hate you, and I hope you and I can salvage something of the friendship we once shared. You're a fine person, T'Pol, but I'm not inclined to consider you as a mate. Yes, yes, it's an emotional response, T'Pol, a protective measure, I know that, but frankly, I don't trust you."

"Is it because of her? T'Fel?"

"Not really," said Trip. "Don't kid yourself, T'Pol. If T'Fel were not there, I'd still feel the same."

"The Bond can not be denied, Trip," said T'Pol, eager to make that impression on her mate.

"Actually, it can," said Trip. "I know your priests can sever an undesired Bond, and I know that sometimes Bonded mates live separate lives, though they remain in close contact."

T'Pol almost winced at that, and said, "Yes, I suppose that's true in rare cases, but either of those actions debases the wonder, and the sacred nature of the Vulcan Bond."

"And yet they are viable options," said Trip. "I don't know what to tell you, T'Pol, but I don't want deeper ties with you right now. To tell you otherwise, would be to lie to you."

"I understand," said T'Pol. "So what now?"

"I was told that severing a Bond weakens both partners for a year or two," said Trip, "and our duty is clear. We must do our best for both our people now, and that means we suffer the Bond for now, as severing that Bond would hamper our efficiency, or perhaps even remove us from the battle entirely. So, we remain Bonded until this war is over."

"Agreed," said T'Pol.

"Since I gather that the matter of the Bond was your main concern, T'Pol," said Trip, "I hope you got some satisfaction, but I really do need to go now. I need to supervise the dismantling of the old pylon from your ship, and it's a process that will go on for days, but we need to start it off right."

"Certainly," said T'Pol, for this discussion of the Bond had gone better than expected, much better in fact, since her mate was willing to tolerate the Bond, at least for now, "but may I ask a favor before you leave?"

"What's the favor?" said Trip, rising to his feet.

"You say you hope to salvage at least a friendship from this whole debacle," said T'Pol, standing as well. "May I ask that you prove your sincerity by treating me as a true friend at least, if not a Bondmate? Don't run from me, don't ignore me…"

"Agreed," said Trip, and with that he stepped close to T'Pol, and kissed her on the cheek, a sweet platonic kiss. "Our friendship is important to me, T'Pol. I really do want to save it."

"As do I," said T'Pol, and she was about to say something more, but did not...


	47. Chapter 47

— **Chapter 47 —**

* * *

"Morning, Jon," said Admiral Ryan, as Archer was shown into his office.

"Good morning, Admiral," said Archer.

"Take a seat," said Ryan. "You want some coffee?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you, sir."

"Ok, here's why you're here," said Ryan. "We got lucky cause we had two pylons and nacelles on the way to the Iron Mountain shipyards for our fourth NX class ship, so it was no big deal to re-route one of each your way. They'll both be here in eight days. After that, Tucker needs five weeks to get the Enterprise patched up, and that's with his men working around the clock."

Jon nodded, and said, "What about my crew and I, sir? Where do you need us 'till the ship's repaired."

"Your crew's being spread out among a number of Vulcan ships," said Ryan, "save for you and T'Pol. She gets to consult with the High Command on ways to better integrate the Vulcan Navy with StarFleet, while you have choice. You can fly a desk with me, here, or go back to HQ on Earth and do the same."

"I'd like to stay close to my ship, if you can use me here, sir," said Archer.

"Good deal, Captain," said Ryan. "We've got lots to do here."

* * *

Shran was quite content at the moment as he watched Isli & Valla, a pair of willowy Risan dancers he'd picked up during a night out with some fellow Guards, as they stripped seductively for his pleasure while he poured shots of Andorian ale for them all.

"Slowly, Isli, slowly, my pet," said Shran as Isli helped Valla out of her elegant dress. "We're in no rush here."

Isli did not reply, but she obeyed, even as she leaned forward and kissed the back of Valla's neck, after which she cupped that woman's breasts, and twisted the nipples harshly.

Shran downed a shot even as Isli lowered her left hand down Valla's belly and began gently probing the other woman's sex: Shran smiled, as did Valla herself, for Isli had a magic touch. But then Valla's smile was replaced by a gasp as Isli sunk her teeth into Valla's neck, and if the bite drew no blood, it was still painful… that was actually a welcome development for Valla's psyche held a strong masochistic streak, and Isli's bite only stoked Valla's fire.

Shran recognized that too, and grinned, then said, "Come, let's take a few shots of ale my large breasted beauties, and then we'll get this night started."

The first round of shots went down well enough, but just then Shran's comm unit chimed, and Shran groaned, "Ugh! Talk about timing."

No one but a fellow Guard would call at this hour, so Shran activated the comm unit without further thought, only to see the Emperor's visage displayed on the video monitor.

"I see I'm interrupting you, Shran," said Aethon, the Andorian Emperor. "Apologies."

Shran looked at the Risans, and said, "Get out. Take the stairs to second floor. The master bedroom on the right hand side."

The Risans moved quickly, for they were used to dealing with the hot blooded Guards, and Shran stood alone before his Emperor.

"They look lovely, Shran," said Aethon. "I hope you'll do the Guards proud in this night's skirmish."

"Have no fear on that score, Highness."

"Good," said Aethon. "Now to business, Shran. Do you know KelSett?"

"Yes, Highness," said Shran.

KelSett was a respected Guard, one step above Shran's own rank, and where Shran commanded a squadron, comprised of the Kumari and an accompanying twenty-four ships, KelSett commanded a group of four squadrons, for a grand total of ninety-six ships.

Aethon nodded, and said, "I'm moving KelSett to the western border, at Helvek. He's just not making the adjustment to mingling with Vulcans, so he'll be more effective in his new post. You've put in your time, Shran, you get along with other species better than KelSett, so you're taking command of KelSett's Group, and I'll put KelSett on the front lines once war breaks out - that's his element anyway, and I'm sure he'll excel there."

"Yes, Highness, he will," said Shran. "I'm honored by your confidence."

"I know," said Aethon, for in truth this was a big promotion for Shran. "You'll be based in Tefrell, but I want your ships to visit the Uzh Palik on a regular basis. I want your men to mingle with the other crews of the Federation's ships, Shran. KelSett's isolationist stance would be quite acceptable were it not for this Romulan menace, but now is not the time for that sort of sentiment, so enjoy yourself this evening, and head for Tefrell tomorrow, and take command of your group."

"Yes, Highness," said Shran.

* * *

Oddly enough, the most effective strike to date against the Romulans on Earth came about as a result of something of a technological voyeur, but a voyeur with a sense of duty, for as soon as the man came across something that just seemed wrong, he called his suspicions into the tip line which EarthGov had established for reportage of possible Romulan sightings. Although 99.9% of those tips led the authorities to genuine and innocent Vulcans, this time was different. Not only that, but the caller had actual video footage to go with his call, for the helicopter drone he was flying was equipped with a high resolution camera, and the man had presence of mind enough to record his surveillance flight and forward that video along with his call.

"So where did you say that video was taken?" said a light infantry soldier who had responded to the caller's location.

"The Hollows," said Michael.

The Hollows was an amateur race track, located outside the city limits and only open on the weekends, thus dark and deserted during the week.

"Why were you flying a drone over there tonight?" said the soldier.

"Look, on the weekends they have a bunch of races during the day, but they also have cookouts, various games, and best of all, wet t-shirt contests, or bikini contests," said Michael, the budding Peeping Tom. "I just bought this thing, but I want to fly it this weekend and record the bikini contests, so I was scoping out the area looking for the best vantage points from which I can control the drone as it records the girls."

"I see," said the soldier, who'd asked those questions just out of curiosity: his only job now was to babysit this man until the conclusion of the upcoming operation.

"So what now" said Michael.

"Now we wait while your information is being evaluated."

"We wait?" said Micheal.

"Yes," said the soldier. "I'm babysitting you until I hear otherwise. You're not going anywhere, you're not making any calls, and if you have a to take a dump, I'm watching you."

"Fine by me," said Michael, with a laugh, for surely the soldier was exaggerating, "but you guys are going to do something, aren't you?"

"Yes," said the soldier.

* * *

T'Pol had dealt with a tiresome day, testifying before one of the High Command's subsidiary committees, as she'd done every day since the crippled Enterprise had been towed to the Uzh Palik, and the meticulous attention to detail of which the Vulcans were capable, was tiresome even to a Vulcan at times. Accordingly, she'd stepped into her mother's house in a bad mood, and then taken a long hot shower, tossed on a scruffy robe she'd had forever, and then set a pot of tea on the stove.

She was torn between eating something now, or waiting for T'Les to return home, yet even as she considered the matter, her eye was drawn to a note perched atop the statis box. The note had her name on it, so T'Pol opened it.

It read: "T'Pol, I have a date with Trip tonight. You have a soup, a salad and a seffi grain pilaf in the stasis box. See you this evening."

"I have a date with Trip tonight," said T'Pol, and in her aggravation she mimicked T'Les, in a childish manner she'd long suppressed, but never conquered, apparently: and then she made a fist. "I have your date right here, mother."

After that moment's aggravation, T'Pol retreated in a purposeful grumpyness, and ate her soup, salad and pilaf with an aggression all out of character for the normally poised Vulcan, an aggression which did nothing good for her digestions. Afterward, she took the time to change out of her ratty robe, and into something fetching, for if Trip and T'Les were out, perhaps the man would come on it for a while at the end of the night.

Oh, Hasha, thought T'Pol, naming one of Vulcan's Old Gods. What if they are coming here to make out? Or worse!

Four hours later, T'Les came through the front gate, and then the front door, only to see a sullen T'Pol looking at her almost resentfully from from the couch.

"Hello, T'Pol," said T'Les.

"Hello, mother. How was your date?" said T'Pol, adding a bit of zing to that last word.

"Quite pleasant, thank you, T'Pol."

"I take it Captain Tucker dumped you at the front gate and made his getaway already?" said T'Pol, annoyed that she'd changed clothes for nothing.

T'Les looked at T'Pol oddly, then said, "Actually, I dropped him off at the spaceport, where his shuttle was parked, T'Pol. What is wrong with you tonight?"

"Nothing. I am just wondering if Captain Tucker will be my step-father soon," said T'Pol, audibly sarcastic.

T'Les actually gave a slight chuckle at that idea, and handed T'Pol the go-box she'd been holding.

"Here, T'Pol," said T'Les, "That Risan nut and date cake you like, I forget the name."

"Thank you," said T'Pol, wishing she were strong enough to say no to sweets, but knowing she'd been thoroughly corrupted by her time on the Enterprise, where she'd developed a sweet tooth of gigantic proportions. "So, where did you go?"

"We attended an exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum, and then dined at Efrek's."

"I love Efrek's," said T'Pol darkly. "So what did you two speak of all night?"

"Lots of things, T'Pol."

"Did Captain Tucker speak of me?"

"It was his idea to get you that cake," said T'Les.

"That is all?"

"Yes," said T'Les. "Why?"

"No reason," said T'Pol, beginning to nibble on her cake, and wishing she could just slap the cake directly onto her thighs and forget about it.

"That committee work is turning you into a grump, T'Pol," said T'Les, humming as she went about her business.

T'Pol glared at T'Les ever so politely, and thought: Humming. Really?

* * *

"Captain," said the Uzh Palik's Comm officer, you have a transmission from Admiral Ryan."

"Send it to my office, please," said Trip, leaving Control for the privacy of his office, and once there he activated his comm unit. "Good morning, Admiral."

"How are you, Captain?"

"Well enough, sir."

"Just checking, because the Vulcans seem to think you're insane," said Ryan.

"Why is that, sir?"

"They say you're asking for tons of material you don't need, have no use for," said Ryan.

"Tell them they're mistaken, sir."

"I have the numbers in front of me, and it seems like your needs are excessive for the current volume of ships which you're servicing," said Ryan. "So what's up, Captain?

"I'm fortifying the Uzh Palik," said Trip. "Shields, weapons batteries, photon launchers, the works. She's gonna be a beast, sir."

"What?" said Ryan. "Why in the hell are you wasting time on that, Captain? That makes no sense, that shipyard can't go anywhere."

"I can't think of a better way to improve efficiency than to get every engineer some hands on time with the hardware they'll be dealing with and installing in our ships soon enough, sir," said Trip. "Our workload is still too light, but we're fully staffed, and my men need something to do."

"And we can't cut the workforce, since open warfare could break out any time, which will greatly increase the number of damaged ships in need of repairs," said Ryan. "Hmmm… ok, I get it, Captain. I'll see you get what you need, so long as they can rip that stuff off as fast as they bolt it on, and mount it onto a ship. I suppose it's no worse than warehousing that equipment."

"Exactly, Admiral," said Trip.

"Ok, you got it. I'll talk to the Vulcans, Captain."

"Much obliged, sir."

* * *

Michael's video had been forwarded to the proper office in short order, and things were put in motion shortly after that video was viewed by the MACO general in charge of the Pacific West Coast. The reason for this haste was clear… it was not often that one came across a video of some sixty Romulans clearly gearing up for a mission.

Bradford, the MACO general wasn't wasting any time or playing any games with the Romulans, and although he'd mobilized a battalion of four hundred MACOs for the Hollows, his solution was more direct than an infantry assault. Accordingly, a modified MACO military shuttle lifted off from the Moffett Federal Air Field at the south end of San Francisco Bay, and headed for the precise location of the Hollows, flying high above the clouds, a TU-10 laser guided bomb tucked beneath its belly. The whole process was gaining steam, for a reconnaissance shuttle with high quality starlight optics already hovered far above the Romulans, waiting for the bomber shuttle.

"Recon 1, this is Zulu X-Ray, over," said Captain Loven, piloting the bomber shuttle above this night's cloud cover.

"Zulu X-Ray, this is Recon 1," said Captain Miles, piloting the Recon shuttle. "I read you loud and clear."

"Status report, Recon 1."

"Your target is stationary, Zulu X-Ray. Mission is a go. Say again, mission is a go."

"Roger, mission is a go. We are two minutes out. Light 'em up."

A moment later, Recon 1 replied: "Target's lit up like Christmas, Zulu X-Ray. Give 'em hell."

"Roger that, Recon 1," said Captain Loven.

"I have the target," said Lieutenant Kapur, Loven's co-pilot, for although the infrared laser dot painted amidst the Romulans was invisible to the naked eye, the bomber shuttle's sensor systems locked onto it easily. "All systems are a go."

"Do it," said Captain Loven.

"Launch sequence is activated," said Kapur.

The entire operation was on automatic now, for once Kapur had given the computer the authority to launch the bomb, the computer system calculated a number of variables, such as speed, altitude, wind, even temperature, and all that with respect to the spot marked by the targeting laser… the computer system used all these factors to determine the proper time and place to release it's payload, and once clear of the shuttle, gravity exerted it's dominion over the bomb, the weapon's seeker head making slight adjustments to the fins which guided the bomb directly towards the infrared dot painted amidst the Romulans.

A civilian would have expected to hear a whistling sound, or perhaps glimpse a blurry image of the missle right before it reached its target, but of course there was none of that. Rather, one second, the Romulans were gearing up in an abandoned race track, and a split second later, the TU-10 detonated five feet above ground. The bomb was filled with Octol, a powerful explosive with a detonation rate of 8,000 meters per second, and this explosive fractured the bomb's steel case in micro-seconds, turning the bomb's casing into a hail of tiny shrapnel, and more deadly still, right behind that shrapnel came the rock hard shock wave of compressed air that would have easily killed every single Romulans on its own account.

In any case, the nervous system of organic beings is simply unable to perceive sensory input on such a compressed time scale, and the Romulans died without even being aware of their deaths. Recon 1 had recorded the entire attack for later analysis, and MACO troops personally entered the strike zone soon after, along with a number of crime scene investigators who were there to harvest evidence, but there were no doubts over the success of tonight's strike… none at all.


	48. Chapter 48

— **Chapter 48 —**

* * *

Much was made in the next few days of the successful bomb strike against the Romulan strike team, and the footage was shown repeatedly on the television screens across Earth, and released on the planet's digital internet, but the reception of it all was restrained, and rightfully so… the Romulans had wiped out eighty thousand Human lives with a single strike in Berlin, so the deaths of sixty Romulans was essentially nothing in the balance, although the efficiency of the entire operation was heartening.

Certainly no one at this particular facility was impressed, none of the men guarding the latest batch of Romulans which had been captured in one way or another across the face of the Earth.

"Bring number 32 to the interrogation room," said Sergeant-Major Biell, the man in charge of this facility, to three of his men.

Minutes later two of his men brought out a Romulan female and sat her roughly into the stout interrogation chair, and quickly secured her wrist and ankle restraints to purposely installed catches built into the chair. The Romulan didn't resist at any point, for if she'd chosen to do so, the pain compliance collar fastened about the neck would have fed enough electricity through her body to immobilize her instantly, as these guards were taking no chances… just two days earlier, an Imperial Marine had killed a lax guard in a briefly presented opportunity, and that sort of object lesson tended to motivate the others to do their jobs properly. Biell certainly wasn't shedding any tears over the matter - Evans had always been a fuckup.

Once the Romulan was properly secured, the guards took their places against the wall, while Biell looked the Romulan over, even as the Romulan did the same.

"You look like you have a small cock," said the Romulan to Biell, a wicked grin on her face, which was an odd sight to see on what appeared to be the face of a Vulcan female.

"That I do, and it's called a micro-penis, darling," said Biell calmly, though he'd have loved to kill this Romulan and all the rest in his custody, for Biell's little brother had been a StarFleet cadet, gassed to death along with his entire class during the Romulan attack on that campus, "but who knows, maybe you'll fall for me anyway during your stay here, decide to throw it all away for love. We can run away together, open up a bed-and-breakfast somewhere nice."

The Romulan actually laughed delightedly at that, though she knew that these Humans meant her harm.

Well, say what you will about the Romulans, thought Biell, but they're not cowards.

"I just might, Sergeant…?"

"Just call me stud," said Biell. "Help me build up my confidence."

"Will do," said the Romulan. "I'm Merzy. So what are you gonna do to me now, stud?"

"I'm gonna give you a haircut, baby," said Biell, coming round the Romulan with a pair of electric clippers.

"Go for something sassy," said Merzy.

"Will do," said Biell, and with that he shaved the Romulan bald.

"I sense you got a bit carried away, stud," said Merzy, looking at the amount of hair on the floor.

"Don't sweat it, you still look good," said Biell.

Just then the door opened and a medic pushed a wheeled cart loaded with equipment into the room. shortly afterwards, a thin rubber skull-cap with a number of fixed electrodes was placed atop her head.

"Really? Electro-torture?" said Merzy. "I'd hoped you were a more imaginative man than that, stud."

"That's me," said Biell, looking at the medic. "Small cock, no imagination."

The medic had been fiddling with a number of dials, but he now looked up at Biell and nodded.

"Pay attention, darling," said Biell, and with the use of a remote Biell activated a large video monitor directly ahead of the Romulan. "Keep your eyes open and watch the screen. If you close your eyes, I'll cut your eyelids off, you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said the Romulan, adding some zing to her last word. "What are trying to do to me, stud? Hypnotize me?"

"That's the idea, baby," said Biell. "You're going to watch some peaceful photos of a number of starfields, some sunsets, some puppies, and you'll relax, after which the session begins."

"All right," said Merzy, laughing at Biell. "Let's give it a go."

And with that Merzy began watching the starfields shown at the rate of three photos a second, steeling herself for the hypnosis session to come. These Humans were fools if they thought they could hypnotize a Tal'Shiar operative and have her spill her secrets, but Merzy was cunning enough to play along, and she planned to put on a convincing show for these morons…

But that never happened, for after watching some two hundred photos of starfields, Biell turned off the video monitor, and said, "Take her back to her cell."

"Did you forget your assignment?" said Merzy, confused now. "A hypnosis session comes after the pretty photographs."

"No, that won't work on you, baby," said Biell. "I can tell you're a hardass. We can't break you."

"Talk to me, stud," said Merzy, uneasy now, for she had the unpleasant sensation that she'd been had. "What's going on?"

But Biell ignored her, and a minute later she was gone.

"Well?" said Biell.

"Same as the others," said the medic. She hit on the same images as the rest. Every single one."

"Good," said Biell.

Every Romulan had been subjected to a stream of starfield imagery from various sources, every photo taken from the Alpha Quadrant and looking into the Beta Quadrant, and all images displayed too quickly to consciously study the particular starfields displayed, and yet every Romulan tested so far reacted strongly to nine particular images from the stack of two hundred, and Biell had no doubt that somewhere among those isolated star systems they'd find the Romulan homeworlds.

With that, Biell picked up his comm unit: there were people waiting for the results of the tests he'd conducted here today.

* * *

With the morning staff meeting just concluded, Trip was about to begin a tour of the shipyard's occupied bays, when his Comm officer told Trip that he had a call from Vulcan. Moments later, Trip answered the call, and smiled when he saw Ayvok's face displayed in the monitor.

"Ayvok!" said Trip. "How are you, man? I've been hoping to see you while the Enterprise was in my care."

"This was my first opportunity to contact you, Trip," said Ayvok. "I apologize for the delay. Something came up."

"No worries," said Trip. "So what's up?"

"I call to invite you to attend my Bonding ceremony," said Ayvok.

Trip laughed, and said, "A wedding? Elizabeth will be crushed!"

"I hope that she will, in time, be able to move on," said Ayvok, the dry humor as good as Human laughter.

"Well, I'd be honored to attend, Ayvok," said Trip. "When?"

"Tonight."

"That's kind of sudden, isn't it?" said Trip.

"Yes," said Ayvok.

"Is it—" said Trip, and then growled while making claws with his hands, "you know…"

"Yes," said Ayvok. "The pon'farr. So I have no time to waste, you see."

"Hey, a man wants some loving, who am I to object," said Trip. "Message me the time and location. I'll be there with bells on."

"Gratitude," said Ayvok, "but don't wear any bells. And bring T'Fel if she wishes to come, and come hungry. Free food and drinks after the ceremony."

"Will do," said Trip. "Hey, Ayvok, congratulations!"

"Thank you. I will message you the necessary information within minutes," said Ayvok, and with that the Vulcan logged off.

* * *

It was a wet and wild day in the Low Countries of Europe, a large coastal region of north-western Europe consisting of Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg, in which a good percentage of the land lay below sea level, or barely above it, the restless sea kept at bay by an ingenious system of natural barriers and man made dikes… and all that counted for nothing when a critical number of natural and artificial barriers were vaporized by a series of matter/anti-matter explosions, allowing the North Sea waters to pour inland.

More than a quarter of the Netherlands was flooded within twelve hours, while a number of large cities were flooded all through the Low Countries, along with some 3,000 square miles of fertile farmland which had been reclaimed from the deltas of the Schelde, Meuse, and Rhine rivers.

Lastly, this region was heavily urbanized, as well as heavily industrialized, and the damage here was severe enough to cause shortages of refined metals and machinery all over Europe, while tens of millions suffered hardship for the better part of the next two years as the dikes were rebuilt, and the waters pumped out once more… and then of course came rebuilding what had been damaged by the sea, which would take the better part of a decade.

The Romulans it seemed, had watched television, and gotten a message from the constant playback of the bombing run which took out sixty of their kind… they were just sending a message of their own now.

* * *

Ayvok's call changed Trip's plans for the day, and after a two hour inspection of the station, Trip called T'Fel into his office.

"Yes, Captain?" said T'Fel, as she stood at attention before Trip's desk.

"We're invited to Ayvok's Bonding ceremony tonight," said Trip. "Would you be kind enough to help me get my grubby little hands on some ceremonial robes or such?"

"Ah… very well," said T'Fel. "Of course."

"What?" said Trip. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I thought you called me here with a sinister purpose in mind, Captain, and I feared that you'd subject me to your bestial demands, right here, in your office. I am relieved to discover that I was mistaken," said T'Fel, looking disappointed and a bit crestfallen, rather than relieved by her near escape, for in truth she'd have enjoyed a bit of fun to break up a tedious day.

"Don't get too happy," said Trip. "Bonding ceremonies always get me hot."

"Duly noted," said T'Fel. "Come, I will take you to my brother's tailor. He will have you in something proper within the hour."

"Great," said Trip. "In return I'll buy lunch. I've heard great things about this place called Letek's."

* * *

Archer and T'Pol stepped off the shuttle which had dropped them on the Uzh Palik, after which they headed for Control.

"I am SubCommander Senva," said the Vulcan, for she'd allowed Archer & T'Pol to enter Control, knowing of their ties to Captain Tucker. "How may I be of service to you, Captain Archer?"

"We're here to speak with Captain Tucker," said Jon. "Curious to see how the work's going on my ship."

"Captain Tucker is not here," said Senva, "but if you like—"

"Where is he?" said Archer.

Senva looked at Jon, annoyed at the man's rudeness, then said, "Captain Tucker is shopping for some clothing, in order to attend a Bonding ceremony this evening, and he—"

"Whose Bonding ceremony?" said T'Pol, her heart beating like a drum, and Senva raised brow at that. "I apologize for my rudeness, SubCommander - your statement took us by surprise."

"The Bonding ceremony he is attending this evening involves a SubCommander Ayvok, a former crewmate of Captain Tucker's from his time aboard the Columbia," said Senva.

"When will he be back?" said Archer.

"He didn't say," said Senva, just about fed up with this rude Human. "I imagine that after he purchases the ceremonial robes needed for such a ceremony, the captain will eat lunch, and then return to duty for a few hours, before he leaves for the ceremony. Now, if you like, I can have the lead engineer in charge of your ship speak with you about the progress made on the Enterprise."

"Fine," said Archer, "but you'd think the captain of this facility would be in attendance here during the day."

And that was enough for Senva.

"It may interest you to know two things, Captain Archer," said Senva. "One, Captain Tucker regularly puts in longer hours than any here, and two, as far as I know Captain Tucker does not answer to you."

Jon had nothing to say to that, though he had to bite his tongue to keep his silence, but then he said, "Where can I find this lead engineer you mentioned?"

"Take conference room 5, on Deck 9," said Senva. "He will be there shortly."

And with that Archer steamed from the room, T'Pol in tow.

* * *

"I don't know, why Vulcan gets such a bad rap," said Trip, looking outside the shuttle's windows as T'Fel piloted them on a scenic route, flying low above Vulcan's capital city. "It's a beautiful planet."

T'Fel nodded and said, "You don't find the heat oppressive?"

"Sure," said Trip, "from 1100 hours to 1800 hours it's pretty freaking brutal, but at least it's a dry heat, and the rest of the time it's quite pleasant. Even at its worst, the heat's no worse than Phoenix anyway."

T'Fel murmured her agreement, then said, "Thank you for lunch by the way, it was quite tasty. You have a way of rooting out good food no matter where you go."

"Mmmm, hmmm," said Trip, bringing the Vulcan's hand to his lips even as he continued looking out the port hole.

After a bit, T'Fel said, "What are you focusing on so intently? You've been so quiet."

"Actually, I'm thinking of getting a place on Vulcan."

"Really?" said T'Fel. "Why?"

"It would be a nice change of pace from living in a steel box aboard the Uzh Palik, no matter how plush that box," said Trip. "All of our Vulcan workers do the same so it's no big deal, and it would be nice to feel the wind and sun on my skin, stretch my legs in natural surroundings, get to know a bit about Vulcan."

"I guess all that is true," said T'Fel. "That is an interesting idea, Trip."

"Yes. Yes it is," said Trip, illogically taken with the idea.

* * *

Archer had left the Uzh Palik after being brought up to speed on the Enterprise's work status, but T'Pol had remained behind, ostensibly in order to follow up on some minutia which was far too petty for the captain to bother with… yet T'Pol was being duplicitous, for in truth, she remained behind only so that she might see Trip when he returned to the station, and return he did a few hours later.

"May I?" said T'Pol, gesturing towards Captain Tucker's office, and Senva nodded agreeably, though she beeped the man to warn him of a visitor.

Moments later T'Pol entered Trip's office to see the man primping before a mirror in a snazzy Vulcan robe.

"T'Pol!" said Trip, laughing. "What do you think?"

"It fits you well, Captain," said T'Pol, "and the blue color goes well with your eyes."

"And the designs?" said Trip, meaning the geometric designs woven into the robe in a silver thread.

"Quite attractive," said T'Pol, and she was not just speaking of the ceremonial robes here. "You did well for yourself."

"Good," said Trip. "So what brings you here?"

"I wanted to check up on the Enterprise," said T'Pol, "and I wanted to see you."

"Well let me get out of these robes, before I spill something on them," said Trip. "Would you like me to call for some food or tea?"

"Some tea please," said T'Pol, for she fully intended to spend at least a few hours under the pretense of checking up on the Enterprise.

A bit later, Trip had changed out of his robes, and by then T'Pol had a pot of hot tea before her, and the two began talking.

"You and Ayvok must be close," said T'Pol. "He spent Thanksgiving at your house, and now you are attending his Bonding ceremony…"

"Yeah, he's great," said Trip.

"You are wearing yourself quite a groove here on Vulcan, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, and the look on her face made Trip laugh.

"What..." said Trip.

"It just occurred to me, that you are fitting in among Vulcans, much faster than I fit in with Humans," said T'Pol, "and what is even more annoying than that, is the feeling that you are fitting in better among Vulcans, than I ever did."

Trip grinned, and said, "I'm just a lovable scoundrel, T'Pol."

"Yes," said T'Pol, her previous thought still running through her mind, for she'd be damned if her words were not true, and T'Pol could not help but be a touch annoyed by the man's easy integration here on Vulcan.

* * *

Later that evening, T'Pol made it a point to stop by the Vulcan Cultural Center, for that was where Ayvok's Bonding ceremony was taking place. That choice of venue was not surprising for the VCC was a beautiful facility, masterfully built and furnished, and all that was highlighted by an elegant appearance which was considered an example of some of the best Vulcan architectural design in the capital, and so, this facility had long been a favored setting for ceremonies of importance, even among clans large enough to have their own ceremonial halls.

T'Pol had come here this night, for although the Bonding ceremony was restricted to family and close friends, the reception which would take place afterwards was inclusive enough that even a stranger would be welcomed here tonight, and so T'Pol was here to wish the new couple well, and mingle with Captain Tucker… and she would have done just that, save that when the man came out, after witnessing the Bonding ceremony, he came out accompanied by T'Fel, that Vulcan clad in some slinky form-hugging robes of green silk, which blended well with Captain Tucker's blue robes, and upon seeing them together T'Pol pulled back, and watched them pass her by, her heart sinking at the realization of just how well suited they seemed together… and with that realization, T'Pol spun on her heels and fled the venue.


	49. Chapter 49

— **Chapter 49 —**

* * *

The day after attending Ayvok's Bonding ceremony, Trip woke early, tasted T'Fel's plump, kissable lips, and the Vulcan stirred and opened her eyes, looking at Trip through sleep clouded eyes.

"I have to go," said Trip. "Senva and I have an early meeting."

T'Fel nodded.

"The things we did last night," said Trip, "we can never speak of them, you understand?"

T'Fel nodded her head soberly, though Trip knew her well enough to detect the slight traces of amusement on the Vulcan's face.

"That doesn't mean I don't want to do those things again," said Trip, "we just can't speak of them, T'Fel."

"I understand," said T'Fel, and followed that up with an involuntary yawn.

With that Trip was off for Control, and he'd just stepped onto the command deck, when he noticed Senva looking intently at the main video monitor in Control.

"What's going on?" said Trip, standing next to Senva.

He watched as a huge Vulcan battlecruiser approached the Uzh Palik with an unusual ship in tow, held beneath the cruiser by a tractor beam. Oh, the towed ship was clearly Vulcan in manufacture, only half the size of the giant Vulcan cruiser above it, but it was a beauty, a streamlined length of metal so artfully rendered that it was a treat just gazing at her.

"What am I looking at, Senva?" said Trip, for the towed ship was clearly not functional.

"A light Vulcan cruiser. T'Vor class," said Senva. "As I understand it, the ship's something of a present for you, but her class has been decommissioned for more than five decades."

"A present?" said Trip. "From whom?"

Senva addressed the Comm officer briefly, and suddenly a recording of Administrator Volok, of the T'Lek Sor, appeared on Control's main video monitor, and he said:

"Congratulations on your new command, Captain Tucker. In the hopes that you remember something of our time together, and as a side project for your amusement, I offer you this ship, the Tek'Surron, one of our light combat cruisers, or rather, I offer you only her empty shell. The few models of this type still left are being scrapped, their metal utilized for the construction of new shipshells at an alarming rate, but I've always been fond of this model, always thought it struck a perfect balance between beauty and efficiency, toughness and speed. The High Command knows of this gift of mine, so make of it what you will, although the High Command will retain ownership of the Tek'Surron if you should outfit her as a ship of war. But if you would keep her for your own, she would make an impressive yacht for an enterprising young man like yourself. Better that, than being scrapped."

"Hot damn!" said Trip, excited at the thought of rebuilding this old girl. "Where'd you put her, Senva?"

"Bay 21," said Senva, though it would be another hour before that ships shell would rest in its assigned berth.

"I've got a hell of a thank you call to make, and shitload of Mexican cocoa powder to ship to the T'Lek Sor!"

* * *

The next three weeks progressed in a state of organized madness, for though the mandatory workload of the shipyard was still light, the armament of the Uzh Palik was both, instructive and demanding of the majority of the engineer's times, which was all for the better: these were Vulcan engineers, and they hadn't signed up in order to drink coffee and swap gossip… no, these people loved building things up, or tearing things down and then rebuilding them even better than their previous state, and the light workload allowed them to do just that for now.

That was the case with the Tek'Surron as well, and as the ship was already gutted, the lucky engineering crew assigned to giving this ship life, took to the task of rebuilding her with a vengeance. Under Captain Tucker's direction, one of the ship's shuttle bays and two of the crew's communal areas were sacrificed in order to add an auxiliary engineering department, and eventually a secondary warp engine… even the primary engineering bay would feel a bit cramped, as the engine which Trip planned to cram in there was a bit larger and a lot more powerful than the engine originally in place here, and combined with the secondary engine, would give the Tek'Surron a projected speed second to none, and if she couldn't truly outrun the larger cruisers, though that was a matter hotly debated among the engineering crews even now, she would easily keep pace with the best.

The ship would then be outfitted with seven Andorian particle cannon batteries, rather than the four Vulcan phaser batteries originally installed, all for the 7.5% power throughput gains of the Andorian weapons, and then outfitted with three of StarFleet's photon torpedo batteries, where this ship originally had no such weapon. Lastly, Denobulan shield generators would be installed, for their outstanding efficiency, shields which would only be made stronger by the oversized main engine and the addition of the smaller subsidiary engine which was sized just about the same as that of the Enterprise and the Columbia's and at the end of it all, fully half the ship's bulk would be filled with power generators, weapon batteries, and shield generators. As for the crew of 134, quarters were just this side of cramped, but that was all right: the ship which Trip envisioned was not a travel cruiser, a science vessel, or a cargo hauler… it was a weapon of war. Only the excess of so many engineers working round the clock made this project feasible in a matter of months, but everyone was excited about it. And at the end of it all, would come the reconstruction of the non-essential, but still important parts of the ship which catered to the comfort of the crew, and to that end Trip hired a high end Vulcan designer from his own pocket, to come up with a fitting look for such a major overhaul.

"The Tek'Surron will be a beauty," said Senva, standing next to Trip. "What are your plans for it?"

"I plan to appeal to the High Command for a hearing when the ship is complete," said Trip. "I mean to propose they give me temporary command of the ship, as well as a crew, so that I might conduct the ship's shakedown cruise, which will give you practical command of the Uzh Palik. The Andorians won't care so long as I'm a figurehead here, and the High Command already knows that you're more than capable of running this station, or they'd not have assigned you to babysit me."

Senva almost smiled a bit at that line, for that was indeed her purpose here, before she'd discovered that Captain Tucker was more than capable of managing this station on his own… thankfully, Vulcan decorum won the day, and Senva simply nodded.

"Anyway," said Trip, "once the Tek'Surron's sorted out, maybe I can persuade the High Command to give me permanent command of the ship, and if I can't, I can't."

* * *

"So tell me what's new," said Trip, as he poured hot tea for him and T'Les both. "How's work?"

"About much of the same," said T'Les, and gave Trip a rundown on the challenges there, over the course of the next twenty minutes.

"Sounds rough," said Trip. "I never thought Vulcans would carry on with such petty power politics. I would have thought it illogical."

"I am afraid that academics are some of the most passive aggressive creatures on Vulcan," said T'Les. "Anyway, my biggest problem is T'Pol. That committee work she is doing is putting her in a bad mood. I fear that she feels restless in that capacity."

"Well, that can't last forever, no matter how thorough the High Command's minions," said Trip. "Sooner or later, they'll run out of questions, or the Enterprise will be patched up and she'll ship out again."

"I suppose that is about right," said T'Les, "unless T'Pol is upset about something else entirely. You wouldn't know anything about that?"

"Ah… well, T'Pol and I are only friends now, T'Les."

"What do you mean, 'now'?"

"I don't really want to get into it, T'Les," said Trip.

"All right," said T'Les, watching Trip closely. "Well, maybe you could ask her anyway. Isn't that what friends do on Earth? Vulcans are a bit more reticent to press against personal boundaries, but you could push the envelope a little."

"I'll tell you what," said Trip. "Next time I see her, I'll tell her to buck up, maybe give her some meditation tips to deal with the annoyance those committee meeting are causing her."

"That would be nice, Trip," said T'Les, though her mind was occupied by other thoughts 'now'. "Do you want to try some of the semri cake? I know that you do."

"Yes. Yes, I do," said Trip, with a smile: he'd corrupted another soul in T'Les, gotten her hooked on sweets… soon, she'd sell her soul for a chocolate brownie.

* * *

Jon and T'Pol were back on the Uzh Palik in order to check up on the state of the Enterprise, and the two were dancing around as they moved through the station and between an endless line of cargo forklifts, for a new shipment of Captain Tucker's requested items had just been delivered.

"What the hell's going on, T'Pol?" said Jon, recognizing that the amount of military hardware moving through the wide hallways seemed all out of proportion to the number of ships being serviced here. "I would have thought they'd have been fully stocked, long before now?"

"As I understand it," said T'Pol, "Captain Tucker is arming and shielding this entire shipyard."

"Why?"

"Training for his engineering crews," said T'Pol. "Idle hands and all that. Also, elements of the High Command and StarFleet are considering this armed shipyard as a prototype for a series of Deep Space stations."

"Ummm, I see," said Archer, quickly dismissing the entire matter. "Well, I hope we get some good news today. If I have to captain a desk much longer, I'll blow my brains out."

"I share your sentiments," said T'Pol with a sigh, then noted that they'd reached Control. "Here we are."

To Jon's satisfaction, Trip was in his office this time, and they had a working lunch while discussing the progress on the Enterprise. Almost four weeks had passed since the Enterprise had been brought it, but one week had been spent doing cleanup on the ship, removing the remnant of the old pylon, and repairing the minor damage caused during the fire fight. Eventually, the new pylon and nacelle had arrived, and in the intervening three weeks, the new pylon had been secured in place and then welded to the Enterprise in a thousand places or more. This coming week, the new nacelle would be placed and fastened atop the new pylon, and then would come the painstaking job of running power cables, lights, oxygen lines, liquid lines for the cooling fluid… Still lots to be done, but drawing closer to completion each and every day.

"Great work, Trip," said Archer. "Great work! I can't wait to get out there again. Manning a desk is a fool's errand."

"Careful now. You'll make Admiral one day soon, and then it's all about manning desks for you, Jon," said Trip, with a wicked grin.

"God forbid," said Jon.

And with that, Jon and T'Pol made their departure, and though T'Pol would have lingered behind, she had another meeting scheduled at the bidding of the High Command, so she accompanied Archer to the turbo-lift bays, while Trip went off to inspect the progress on the Tek'Surron: and it was at the turbo-lift bays that T'Pol got a most unpleasant surprise, when T'Fel came to make use of the lift as well, and something within T'Pol coiled up, tensed up… she had not seen the Vulcan since the night of Ayvok's wedding, and if she'd fallen into a ditch and broken her neck, well, T'Pol would not have shed any tears.

"Ah, T'Pol, Captain Archer," said T'Fel, "how are you both?"

"Doing well," said Archer. "You're…"

"T'Fel, Captain," said the Vulcan. "We met briefly during your crew swap with the Columbia."

"Yes," said Archer, smiling broadly now, because it seemed that Jon, despite his hard feelings where Vulcans were concerned, was not completely immune to their charms. "I remember now, T'Fel. You're stationed here now?"

"Yes," said T'Fel. "My time on the Columbia was a temporary assignment."

"Well, I'm sure that T'Pol and I wish only the best for you here," said Archer. "Isn't that right, T'Pol?"

"Yes," said T'Pol, wishing she could wrap hands round T'Fel's neck and squeeze… not to kill her, mind you, just squeeze a bit, and work off some stress, relieve some tension.

* * *

Later that day, just as he was about to wrap things up, Trip received a visitor.

"Ayvok," said Trip, laughing. What's it been, 23 days since the Bonding ceremony? You look tired… no, downright exhausted!"

Ayvok merely looked back at Trip, but there was a hint of amusement on the Vulcan's face, for he'd been around Humans long enough to understand Trip's insinuations.

"I have been quite busy lately, that much is true," said Ayvok, playing it straight. "In any case, I am here to request a favor, if you are of a mind to entertain it, Captain."

"What's the favor?"

"As you probably know, my newly mated status demands I remain close to my mate for this first year," said Ayvok, "and so I must select a new post, since serving on the Columbia is no longer feasible. I checked with the High Command, and I see you have a number of openings in Security, and I hope you will consider me for a position in that department. I am well qualified for service there."

"You got it," said Trip. "My head of Security asked for a transfer the other day, she's not feeling it, dealing with Andorians constantly. I haven't pushed her paperwork through yet. I'll do so now, and press that you take her post."

"I do not ask to be head of Security, Capta—"

"Are you qualified for that position?"

"Yes," said Ayvok.

"Than you're my head of Security if I have any say in it," said Trip. "Supposedly I have some clout around here, so let's see. I'll let you know what the High Command decides."

"Gratitude, Captain," said Ayvok.

"Game of chess for old time's sake?" said Trip. "I'm feeling strong, and I'm feeling lucky. There's no way you can win!"

"Let us see about that, Captain," said Ayvok, already anticipating victory.

* * *

"Captain Tucker was on Vulcan today," said T'Les, "and while he was down here, we went out for tea and dessert."

"That is nice," said T'Pol woodenly: she'd had a long day of it, and she was exhausted.

"What happened between you two, T'Pol?" said T'Les after a time.

T'Pol would have normally practiced evasion here, but she was too tired for that today, and so she said, "I do not want to speak of it, mother."

"Can it be fixed?" said T'Les, after a few minutes silence during which she'd weighed her daughter's words and attitude.

"I do not know, mother," said T'Pol, feeling nothing but a hollow emptiness. "I doubt it."

T'Pol felt her mother's eyes on her for a time, and then, for the first time since she'd been a young girl, T'Les drew close, kissed T'Pol's cheek, wrapped arms around her daughter and held her in a comforting silence, and likewise, for the first time since she'd been a child, T'Pol wept bitter tears in her mother's arms.


	50. Chapter 50

— **Chapter 50 —**

* * *

"SubCommander," said Reed, while looking at the image of T'Pol projected onto his comm unit. "What can I do for you?"

It had been three weeks since he'd last seen the Vulcan, when the crippled Enterprise had been towed to the Uzh Palik and it's crew dispersed to Vulcan ships while the Enterprise underwent repairs, but Reed had a feeling he knew why T'Pol was calling, not that he had a damned clue of how he could be of service to T'Pol. His ship, the D'Lett, had departed on a patrol mission shortly after he and some of the Enterprises' crew had boarded, and they would not be given leave to depart the ship until the tomorrow morning.

"I need nothing from you, Lt-Commander Reed," said T'Pol, "I merely wished to speak with you, at the earliest opportunity. That project you have been handling for me, need no longer trouble you."

"You're certain?" said Reed, frankly relieved, but doubtful.

"I am," said T'Pol. "The clock's run out. It is over."

"Understood, SubCommander," said Reed. "I'm glad it all worked out."

T'Pol nodded, thanked Reed once more, and then ended the call. She'd had something of the same conversation with Archer the day the Enterprise had pulled up to the Uzh Palik, for she knew that she, Archer and Reed might be dispersed, but would definitely not have the same type of privacy they'd enjoyed 'till now, and so T'Pol did the logical thing…

She went to her superiors in the High Command, explained that she'd entered pon'farr while aboard the Enterprise. This being her first cycle, she was unaccustomed to its intensity, mistakenly believed that she could control it through iron discipline, and by the time she'd realized her mistake, she was too far from Vulcan help.

What did you do, was asked.

I took a Human mate for the duration of cycle. He is discreet. He has not spoken a word of it to anyone.

You have been back to Vulcan several times since your cycle started, was stated. Why not come to us with this earlier?

The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the one. The Romulans are a danger to us all, and I feared being removed from my post. My place is out there, performing my duty, not bound to Vulcan.

So why come to us now, was asked.

The crew of the Enterprise will be dispersed while the ship is undergoing repairs, and without a ship, I can not stand against the Romulans. I have handled this matter discreetly, so long as possible. I believe the end of my time has already come, but in case I am mistaken, once again, I need your assistance.

How much time since your cycle began, was asked.

It has been a year since that time, but apparently these things do not run according to a precise timetable. I will try to control myself, but I need someone assigned to me until this cycle ends, in case I am unable to do so.

Understood, was the reply, and her superiors were pleased that T'Pol had handled the matter so efficiently. You have done well to handle this matter so discreetly, T'Pol. Be at peace now, you will be supported.

Now, this call she'd placed to Reed had been the last thing to deal with, and now that whole unfortunate affair was finished so far as Humans were aware… she hadn't even had to call upon the assistant provided by the High Command, for her sexual responses truly were calming down, save where her mate were concerned, and there her desires were still strong, annoyingly insistent and forcefully demanding…

* * *

Getting Ayvok approved as the head of Security aboard the Uzh Palik turned out to be a breeze, as the Vulcan's record was spotless and his reason for seeking transfer to Vulcan was well known and a matter of record, so two days after his last meeting with Captain Tucker, Ayvok attended the morning meeting along with the other department heads. Present for Command were Captain Tucker and his second, Senva, Selles was here for Medical, Ayvok for Security, Tukel for Engineering and T'Slenne for Shipyard Operations.

"Ok," said Trip, "you're all familiar with the training program I've instituted, in which our idle engineers are arming the Uzh Palik with weapons, and fortifying the station with shielding. This was simply intended as an in-house training program, but some voices in StarFleet and the High Command have spoken favorably for the idea, proposing that this might serve as a concept for creating a chain of armed and armored deep space stations to be placed along the Federation's borders, and with that, we have our first test today.

"As you may, or may not know, we've got twenty percent of the station covered in shield emitters so far, namely the core, from Control all the way down through the decks, and accordingly, we have our first live fire exercise today, two hours from now. The combat cruiser Israk's phaser batteries will fire on the core, repeatedly, raising the power output of each successive salvo, to see how we take the hits."

That made sense to many here, for the size of the Uzh Palik's cold fusion engines dwarfed the engines of a combat cruiser's engines by a factor of 300+… the toughness and durability of the shields generated by engines of that size should be outstanding.

"I want announcements of this upcoming test made every twenty minutes," said Trip, "so that even the dimmest bulb aboard this station understands that we're not under actual attack. Is that clear?"

Everyone nodded in the affirmative, and after dealing with some other matters, the meeting broke up, and everyone went about their business, prepping for the live fire exercises.

The test, when it came, went well. The Israk quickly ramped up the power throughput of its phaser bombardment, for nothing it did could even dent the Uzh Palik's shields, but that was expected, and with that Trip was formally encouraged by an envoy of the High Command to continue fortifying the station, after which an even more demanding test would be conducted, in which the station would be fired upon by a half dozen cruisers, while the Uzh Palik must target a number of drones with its weapons arrays.

* * *

The Romulan Consul, and the members of the Senate itself, remained seated as the Klingon Ambassador entered the Senate chambers, but that was to be expected: the Consul and the Senate were the ruling body of the Romulan Star Empire, while the Ambassador was simply an envoy of the Klingons. The Klingon Ambassador, Dumat, understood that fact as well, and took no offense, and after a bit of politeness, both ways, Dumat got to the heart of the matter.

"It pleases me to announce, on behalf of Chancellor Kor, leader of the High Council and Great Houses of the Klingon Empire, that the offer of the Consul and the Senate of the Romulan Star Empire has been accepted. Accordingly, as proposed in your offer, our fleets will pull back to Khitomer until the resolution of your venture in the Alpha Quadrant, at which point our fleets will of course return to patrolling our newly agreed upon borders."

The Romulan Consul nodded, for that had been a crucial point in his offer, that the Klingons withdraw their fleets to Khitomer, thus, if the Klingons decided to renege on their agreement, and decided to invade the Romulan Empire, the Star Empire's fleets in the Alpha Quadrant would have the necessary time to disengage from that conflict and rush home in order to fight the Klingons, for the Home Fleets could be counted upon to delay the Klingons long enough for that to happen.

"That pleases us all, Ambassador," said the Consul. "When will your ships, and your ground troops, begin their withdrawal from the border?"

"As soon as I reach Qo'noS with your agreement, Consul," said Dumat.

"And how long will that process take?" said the Consul.

"Due to the distances involved, and the logistical requirements of pulling a few million troops back from the border," said Dumat, "we estimate the process will take nine weeks or so."

"Understood, Ambassador," said the Consul. "Please contact my office by sub-space transmission when the process is complete, and upon the receipt of your message, we will assume that your part of the agreement has been honorably upheld, and our contract fulfilled."

Now Dumat knew that this was not strictly true, for he was sure that cloaked Romulan ships would indeed verify that no military Klingon presence remained behind in contravention of the agreement, but Dumat understood the Consul's politeness, and there was no fear that the Romulans might be using this as a ruse… to do so would be madness, for the massed troops at Khitomer would, in that case, embark on a campaign of reconquest and after that, a campaign of invasion.

"I will do so once the process is complete, Consul," said Dumat, and with that, Dumat reboarded his ship, on his way back to Qo'noS.

* * *

"Captain Tucker," said Soval, looking at Trip through his comm unit. "Good to hear from you again."

"I hope I'm not imposing on you, Ambassador."

"Not at all, Captain," said Soval. "I hope that you are not calling to cancel tomorrow's dinner engagement."

"I am not, Ambassador," said Trip, for he was actually looking forward to dinner at Soval's: the ambassador knew food. "I actually have a question you might answer, and a favor to ask of you."

"I am listening," said Soval.

"Do you know if Humans are allowed to own property on Vulcan?"

"Yes, they can," said Soval. "Vulcans hold title to property on Earth, so Humans can do the same here, and what's more, a number of your businesses own properties and facilities here. Why do you ask?"

"I'm thinking of buying a place on Vulcan," said Trip. "You have a beautiful planet, seems a waste to spend all my time cooped up aboard the Uzh Palik. I could rent, but I plan a long term presence here. Which leads me to my favor. Can you recommend a good lawyer who specializes in property law?"

"I can," said Soval. "Give me an hour or so, to ask around."

"I appreciate it, Ambassador," said Trip.

"You are quite welcome, Captain Tucker," said Soval. "We will speak within the hour, and I will then see you tomorrow night."

Upon the conclusion of his call to Soval, Trip turned his attention back to the screen, where he was looking at the property he'd selected after weeks of prospecting through the Vulcan infonets. Just then the chime sounded, announcing a visitor.

"Enter," said Trip, and the computer opened the door in response to Trip's command.

"Captain," said T'Fel, looking quite adorable today.

"Hello, sexy," said Trip, and gestured that the Vulcan come around the desk.

"You really are serious about buying a place here, aren't you?" said T'Fel, taking note of the images displayed on Trip's video monitor. "Really? Is that Ralla province? That is a pricey area to buy in, especially on a captain's salary."

"Five years ago I wrote a book on warp field mechanics, which I update yearly," said Trip. "It was an instant classic, and it's required reading by most universities for students enrolled in certain courses… that's tens of millions of copies sold yearly. I can afford it."

"Oh, my, Captain Tucker," said T'Fel. "That is a beautiful property, and you have suddenly become more attractive than ever, knowing that you can stuff your mattress with money."

"Some things are the same, the whole universe over, aren't they?" said Trip, smiling now, as his hands wrapped around T'Fel's thighs in order to draw the Vulcan close. "Anyway, Soval is hooking me up with a good lawyer to close the deal."

"I am jealous, Trip," said T'Fel. "Ralla province is beautiful."

"Yes it is," said Trip, running his hands up the Vulcan's thighs to her buttocks. "Just beautiful."

"I meant the house," said T'Fel.

"So did I," said Trip, though his hands argued that fact as they squeezed, massaged and rubbed T'Fel's buttocks with reckless abandon.

He'd taken a shuttle to view the house personally, and the house was situated on the coastline of the Voroth Sea, with a beautiful view, a small pier and a forty foot motor cruiser which the owner was throwing in with the purchase of the house. Best of all a fair number of Vulcans around here ate seafood, always had, probably always would, which meant a fair number of seafood restaurants, and some good fishing.

"So, why did you ask to see me?" said T'Fel.

"I'm dining with Soval tomorrow night," said Trip, "but I'm free tonight. I thought I might go down to Vulcan, with a Vulcan, get a bite to eat, see one of your theater performances, then go to a hotel room and have sex with the aforementioned Vulcan. I thought I'd give you first dibs on that offer, otherwise I'll go with Sulak. He's been giving me the eye lately."

"In that case, I suppose I will accept your offer," said T'Fel. "Sulak looks quite strong and I suspect that he would kill you in bed."

Trip laughed at the thought of an untimely death through sodomy, and said, "I appreciate your concern, T'Fel. Meet me in the shuttle bay at 1900 hours. Now get back to work."

"I shall," said T'Fel, and with that she left the room, but only after collecting a few kisses as a rightful tribute.

* * *

"Ah, welcome, Captain Tucker," said Soval, approaching Trip when one of his bodyguards led the man into Soval's dining room.

"Thank you for the invitation, Ambassador," said Trip.

"Thank you for coming," said Soval, and gestured at the other guests. "My sister, Selssan, her mate Ulik, my collegue E'Fret, and of course you know T'Les and T'Pol."

Trip looked around the table in which Soval had introduced these people, murmuring a few words of greeting, his eyes coming to rest on T'Pol last of all. He'd not expected to see her here, though he was not displeased by that fact, for he really was trying to salvage a friendship with her, and so he gave his head a tilt, and then he smiled slightly, to which T'Pol raised brow, and gave a slight nod.

The dinner was quite pleasant for all, the food tasty, the conversation lively, and at the end of it all, T'Les insisted on giving Trip a ride back to the shuttle port, rather than allowing him to call a hire-car, and to T'Les' amusement, Trip jumped in the the back seat with her, rather than sitting up front with T'Pol, who was unwittingly cast in the role of a driver.

"Hey you guys want to hit a tea shop?" said Trip. "I have a late night when I get back aboard the Uzh Palik and I could use some coffee or that irrithil tea. That stuff is like rocket fuel!"

"Sure," said T'Les.

T'Pol shrugged carelessly, though in truth she was pleased by the chance to extend an already pleasant night, and within twenty minutes the trio was seated in the pleasantly cool, covered patio of Siltek's Teas.

"Yummm, yummm, yummm," said Trip, sipping his tall irrithil tea, which tasted like a blend of hibiscus flowers, coconut and some third mystery flavor profile. "We had fun tonight, eh?"

"Yes," said T'Les, and T'Pol nodded.

"So, Trip," said T'Les, "I understand you and T'Pol had something going on aboard Enterprise. Would you like to talk about that?"

T'Pol froze at that, and Trip looked at T'Pol, then said, "Polly, did you speak of things best left unsaid?"

T'Pol shook her head, and with that Trip breathed a sigh of relief, because he REALLLLYYYY didn't want to talk about any of that mess… ever again.

"Well, if you must know, T'Les, Polly made use of me one night. She shattered my innocence and then cast me aside, the way a sehlat will toss away a semlek gourd after consuming its juicy innards. That's it, that's all, and I don't want to talk about it. I don't think Polly wants to discuss it either."

"My name is T'Pol," said T'Pol, shooting Trip a dark glance, "and I agree with Trip, mother. Drop it!"

"Fine, fine," said T'Les, and with that the conversation moved on to more palatable topics.

Once they'd dropped Trip off at the small spaceport by their house, the two Vulcans faced a short drive home, and it was during that drive that T'Les took another shot.

"So, now that Trip is no longer with us, do you want to talk about what happened between you two, T'Pol?"

"No," said T'Pol.

"Something happened," said T'Les. "It is clear that you two have been intimate."

T'Pol said nothing, doing her best to ignore her mother by focusing on her driving.

"You must have been good together," said T'Les, "or else you'd feel no angst over the matter… you'd have simply moved on."

T'Pol maintained her stony silence though she spared a hard look for her mother: a look which T'Les ignored.

"So what could have been so bad, that it caused a rift between you two," said T'Les, "I'm just speculating here."

Mother glanced at daughter, and the glance was perceived, but ignored, though T'Pol said, "Keep on speculating, mother, and I might just drag you out of the car and give you a beating."

T'Les chortled at that empty threat.

"I know that the High Command did not break you two up," said T'Les, "or they'd have simply taken you off Enterprise. Same thing if StarFleet found out, and had a problem with it. So what is it?"

"Your inane chatter is about to make me plow this car off a cliff, mother," said T'Pol, "Is that what you want?"

"Funny that you should speak of going off a cliff, when we are discussing the catastrophic ending of your dalliance with Trip…"

"There is nothing funny about it, mother. Now would you please leave it alone."

"You are my daughter, T'Pol," said T'Les. "I only want to help."

"The best way to help," said T'Pol, "is to leave it alone."

"Ignoring a problem is not a fix, T'Pol," said T'Les. "Talk to me."

At that point T'Pol had enough: she looked coldly at T'Les, and said, in a vicious monotone, "If you will not leave things be, mother, I promise you, the moment we get home, I will pack my things, never to return! So, do you still want to discuss the matter?"

T'Les was taken aback at her daughter's attitude, at so abrupt a reversal from T'Pol defensive stance, but T'Les sensed her daughter's vehemence, and said, "No, T'Pol. I do not want to discuss the matter. I am sorry. I only wished to help."

"I know, mother."

* * *

**If you consider the matter of Trip's income, collecting residuals from a book published in the tens of millions, for the past 5 years, you'll realize that I made Trip a rich man - you're welcome, Captain Tucker. You're welcome…


	51. Chapter 51

— **Chapter 51 —**

* * *

"Captain Tucker," said the Uzh Palik's Comm officer, "you have a call from the firm of Sultek & Tessen."

"Make the connection, please," said Trip, for Sultek & Tessen was the name of the full service realty firm which Soval had recommended.

"Captain Tucker," said a young Vulcan, Ellet, whom Trip had met a few days earlier. "I have the pleasure to notify you that your offer on the property you have chosen was accepted earlier today, and per your instructions, we have rendered payment in full. That property is now yours."

"Excellent," said Trip, quite pleased.

"Due to the security restrictions in place aboard the Uzh Palik, I can not board the station in order to deliver your key-cards and such, but I have transmitted the proper electronic documents to your user account, and I will make myself available at your convenience, to make certain that everything passes to you properly, Captain."

"I'll make it easy for you, Ellet. I'll come down to your offices now, in order keep things tidy," said Trip.

"I will be waiting for you, Captain Tucker," said Ellet. "Oh, and by the way, we have communicated with T'Casla, and she has agreed to accept your commission. I have her contact information. If it pleases you, I will take her by her studio and make an introduction, or you may contact T'Casla at your convenience."

Ellet was speaking of a talent interior designer whose work had drawn Trip's eye when he'd viewed her previous projects done on behalf of Sultek & Tessen's portfolio.

"Great," said Trip. "I'll take the intro, Ellet. I'm on my way."

True to his word, once their end of it all was tidied up, Ellet took Trip to T'Casla's studio, and made introduction between Trip & T'Calsa.

"Here's is the key-card to the property," said Trip, sliding the card towards T'Calsa. "I'd love to see what you come up with, T'Calsa."

They'd had a two hour consultation, viewing T'Calsa's previous projects, discussing Trip's likes and dislikes, and to T'Calsa's delight, the man seemed to have a cohesive design philosophy for his new residence which was easy to accommodate: he was looking for a relatively uncluttered environment populated by high quality furniture which was elegant, functional and comfortable, and a color palette which fit well with the rust colored cliffs, and sea green waters of the Voroth sea, though still allowed for the inclusion of some Art Deco items which her Human client intended to ship here from Earth… that was no problem, for she'd seen images of those items, and their colors of gray and silver, midnight blue and black, would fit in well with her designs, and perhaps she could mirror those colors in her designs as well, to some degree. All in all, T'Calsa was quite eager to tackle this coming project for Captain Tucker.

* * *

Harris walked into the A La Rocca Seafood restaurant located on Fisherman's Wharf, and he was shown to a booth where Sek was already waiting for him.

Sek nodded in greeting to Harris as the Human took a seat, and then the two got down to business.

"Your team is in place?" said Harris.

"Yes," said Sek. "They are ready to act, unless you call things off right now."

"No," said Harris. "It's a go. I gave Paxton a chance to back off, but he's either too dumb or too committed, to take heed. Fuck him. In any case, the cops are going to have their hands full with a little protest we've sponsored and I've made sure that the military response units are lured elsewhere."

"Good," said Sek.

"You know if your people screw it up, they're on their own, right?" said Harris.

"Yes," said Sek, "and they know it too. These are V'Shar operatives, and they understand the meaning of self-sacrifice."

Harris nodded, but said nothing in response.

"I've heard the seafood's quite good here," said Sek. "Eat up, while we wait to hear the outcome of the raid. I will pick up the tab."

"I could eat," said Harris, and began scanning the menu.

* * *

The Romulan consul, R'Hienn, was due to brief the Senate on the state of preparations for the planned invasion of the Alpha Quadrant later this day, for although he yielded a great deal of power during his tenure, his term as Consul would end later this year, and so the support of the Senate would ensure an orderly transition of power, even during a campaign of conquest.

R'Hienn was just about to begin memorizing his speech when a young tribune of the Tal'Shiar entered the room, and the consul gave the woman a cold stare… though necessity dictated that he must tolerate these snakes, R'Hienn had served his time in the military attached to a heavy infantry unit, and he had a soldier's disdain for the underhanded ways of the Tal'Shiar.

"Consul," said the tribune, "I have reports from the northern border."

"So report, Tribune."

"Yes, Consul. Cloaked ships report that the Klingons are beginning their pullback from the border, in accordance with our agreement, and random scans appear to show that everything is in order - troop carriers are indeed full of men as they leave the border, battle cruisers are pulling back. So far, we detect no treachery."

"Good," said R'Hienn. "How long before they've all pulled back to Khitomer?"

"That is uncertain, Consul," said the tribune. "The Klingons are fairly efficient, but not up to our standards."

"Keep me apprised of the situation."

"Yes, Consul."

* * *

John Paxton was on the move now. He had a meeting with Congressman Osbourne over the next series of moves they needed to make in order to take Terra Prime into the public eye… so far they'd had some limited success, but people just weren't responding as expected to Terra Prime's message. Oh, sure some fifty or sixty million people had attended rallies carrying Terra Prime banners, all over the world, but those numbers were not sufficient to drive political change. They'd have to do better and recruit more people, in order to really shake the halls of power, make some serious changes.

"Let's go," said Paxton, and his new bodyguard detail closed in around him.

These bodyguards were a recent addition to Paxton's life, added just after Harris' barely veiled threat. Paxton had done what he could. These people came well recommended, and they were competent, and so Paxton felt as safe as it was possible to feel. Some nasty threats would not stop him from achieving his goals, and so Paxton and his detail moved as a unit for the elevator banks, every man in that unit keeping a wary eye out for trouble, and once there Paxton's comm unit buzzed while they waited for the elevators.

"Hold this, please," said Paxton, moving to hand his briefcase to one of the guards.

"Put it on the ground, sir," said the guard. "I need my hands free."

Paxton suppressed a wave of irritation at the man, but these were the best, and the man's words made sense, so Paxton set down his briefcase and checked his comm, reading a brief text message from a personal assistant.

Just then, the elevator reached Paxton's floor, and Paxton and his three guards entered the elevator, heading down for the parking garage, where two more men waited with the car.

Within moments, Paxton's car headed for the Battery St. Exit, right behind a brown UPS truck, and it was there that Paxton met his end, for just before the truck reached Battery street, the back door popped open.

"Shit!" said the driver, knowing they were screwed.

Even as the guard in the passenger's seat began to give warning, a heavy, crew served phaser opened up on Paxton's car from eight feet away, the five foot long phaser mounted on a steel tripod and pouring a stream of heavy weapons fire into Paxton's limo, practically cutting the car in half, and all this witnessed by a dozen stunned Humans.

Once the heavy phaser fire stopped, four Romulans approached the car, verified that Paxton was dead and then climbed back into the UPS van, which peeled off in a northern direction.

* * *

"How's it going, Velmek?" said Trip, back on the Uzh Palik now.

Velmek was this bay's lead engineer for this shift, and his men were working on the Tek'Surron, the light combat cruiser given Trip as a rehabilitation project.

"It goes well, Captain," said Velmek. "We are keeping pace with your schedule. We just wedged the secondary warp engine in place, though it will take the next two shifts to secure it properly in place."

"Sure," said Trip. "Good work."

"This ship will be the fastest thing in the Navy," said Velmek, for he was enjoying this project immensely.

"Wouldn't surprise me a bit. All right, keep it up," said Trip, and though he'd have loved nothing more to be a part of this crew of engineers working on the ship, that wasn't an option now.

"Right, Captain," said Velmek.

* * *

Sek's comm unit buzzed and the Vulcan answered the call, as Harris watched the Vulcan closely.

"Sek here."

"Do you recognize my voice?"

"Yes," said Sek.

"Your friend John slipped and fell down a flight of stairs."

"You are certain?" said Sek.

"Yes, of course I am certain," said the anonymous caller, and with that the 'Romulan' strike team leader, in truth one of the V'Shar's black ops troopers, hung up on Sek, tossed the comm unit on the ground and stomped it into rubbish, and then kicked that rubbish into a gutter.

"So?" said Harris.

"It's done," said Sek. "But you know that Terra Prime will not end with Paxton's death."

"I know," said Harris, "but they won't go as far or as fast, with Paxton's money out of the picture, and we'll keep an eye on them."

"Have you taken care of your part?" said Sek.

"Happening now," said Harris.

* * *

"Hey, TF," said Trip, as T'Fel entered his quarters with two covered lunch trays, one stacked atop the other. "May I call you TF?"

"No," said T'Fel setting the trays atop the four seat dining table, then turning to face Trip.

"Oh, come on," said Trip, after tasting T'Fel's lips.

"I said no! Now, you must be hungry after runnin—" said T'Fel, brought up short, as her lover stepped behind her.

"I am hungry," said Trip, kissing T'Fel's neck, "but not for food. You're what you need right now."

"That can not be true, or you'd be kissing my neck here," said T'Fel, touching her neck. "And here."

Trip kissed T'Fel's neck, his lips tracing the passage of the Vulcan's hand, even as his hands roamed the front of T'Fel's body, and when T'Fel sighed, Trip lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, where he tossed her on the bed.

"Stop it!" said T'Fel, scrambling to a seated position on the bed. "Let me take my boots off! I'm not an animal!"

Trip laughed, watching as T'Fel stripped eagerly, even as he began slipping out of his own clothes, but T'Fel beat him to the punch, stripped nude first.

"You've been quite scrappy today," said Trip. "Any further demands?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," said T'Fel, her busy hands grasping Trip in a most intimate way, and tugging gently with her greedy fingers. "I want to taste something. With my mouth."

Trip laughed, and said, "Ok, genius, what else would you taste with, other than your mouth?"

Trip's laugh didn't last long though, for T'Fel applied herself to her taste test with a vengeance as Trip groaned with pleasure, and when she took a brief break to make eye contact with him, and give a slight smile, even as her hands kept working, and Trip was putty in her hands.

At the end of it all, they'd spent five minutes undressing, forty minutes sexing each other up, another five minutes dressing, and ten minutes cramming what food they could in their mouths, as they groaned, moaned and rolled their eyes to signify their appreciation of the fine cuisine served aboard the Uzh Palik, after which they traded hurried kisses, and ran off to their respective appointments: all in all, it was a great lunch.

* * *

"…and so," said the voice of the newscaster, "industrialist John Paxton was killed today by a Romulan strike team, and he will surely be missed, although, given the importance his mining colony, contingency plans to smoothly operate the business no matter what have long been in place and so Paxton's minding colony will continue producing the raw materials so crucial to our war efforts without missing a beat. Although the Romulans have killed Mr. Paxton, his work will go on."

Congressman Osbourne sighed, for with Paxton gone, or rather with Paxton's money gone, Osbourne would feel the pinch soon enough, unless he could bring all of Paxton's financial backers in under his leadership. Terra Prime had taken a serious blow today, but it didn't have to be the end of the road for that organization, or for Obsourne's rise to power.

Osbourne's secretary came in just then with a small package, and said, "Special delivery, sir. Looks like your cigars."

Osbourne grunted as his secretary left the room, and then began opening the package, knowing that all the mail delivered here had been scanned for any noxious or dangerous elements, and it was to Osbourne's fatal surprise that opening the package also triggered what was essentially a powerful shrapnel grenade, killing the man instantly, and with this second death, Terra Prime became an incoherent movement for the rest of the Romulan war, for without Paxton's money and Osbourne's presence in Congress, the financial backers of the movement got the message and withdrew their funding, and moreso, the fledgling Terra Prime leaders developed the bad habit of suffering from accidental deaths going forward from this point... apparently someone believed that this war with the Romulans was too serious a business, to allow for any distractions.


	52. Chapter 52

— **Chapter 52 —**

* * *

It was just twenty days after Trip had bought the beachside property on the Voroth Sea, that T'Casla was satisfied, and asked Trip to review her work, a request that he was glad to oblige. He'd have brought T'Fel with him, but that Vulcan was attending a funeral ceremony, so her company was not an option.

The house came with a five acre lot, which wasn't a huge parcel of land, but the view was outstanding, for Trip's house was perched on a rocky bluff, some fifty feet above the beach, which was accessible by a series of steps carved into the stone bluff all the way to the sand and the water, as well as the stone pier which berthed his motor cruiser. Heaven itself!

Just as much a factor as the view, in Trip's purchase of this property, was that the proximity of a large body of water and constant breezes, moderated the otherwise brutal Vulcan heat during the midday hours, and surprisingly, the waters of the Voroth Sea were fairly cool, at 76F degrees, given the depth of the sea, and the patterns of water circulation through the deeps… but finally tearing himself from the view, Trip entered the house to be met by T'Calsa and her assistant, and after the usual exchange of social pleasantries, T'Calsa showed Trip around his newly remodeled house.

Even at first glance, Trip was glad he'd hired one of the best. T'Calsa was a female, but she either viewed design through a male prism, or she'd simply designed enough projects for men that she'd grasped some type of underlying formula in designing for them, for the furniture she'd chosen, its design, materials and methods of construction, even the lighting deployed about house… it all just came together, projecting an image which straddled comfort and a restrained style which did away with excess ornamentation, leaving only the essentials in place, and these essentials highlighted through the use of wonderful colors and a few carefully chosen accents. Well pleased by T'Calsa's work, Trip praised the Vulcan's fine efforts, and transferred the remaining balance of her fee to her account, after which the two parted ways, and Trip returned to the Uzh Palik.

It was later that same week that Trip got a chance to use the house, for the Columbia had come to Vulcan after an unsuccessful hunt for cloaked Romulan ships, and Erika's presence meant one thing only: house party!

Fortunately, the guest list practically wrote itself: Erika from the Columbia. Jon, Malcolm, Hoshi, Travis and Dillard from the Enterprise. T'Les, T'Pol, Soval and Admiral Ryan. Ayvok & his mate, Serrese, as well as SubCommander Senva, and of course, T'Fel… and than who could forget Shran and Talas, for the Andorians had recently popped up at Uzh Palik, apparently assigned to this sector for the foreseeable future. That hurdle overcome, Trip asked around a bit, and came up with the name of an experienced local caterer, and with that detail handled, it was all go.

The party kicked off at 1900 hours on the appointed evening, and it kicked off with Jon, Malcolm, Hoshi, Dillard and Travis practically beating the doors down in their eagerness to get in.

"Hey guys, relax," said Trip. "There's plenty of food!"

Trip bumped fists with Travis on the way in, saluted Dillard, said hi to Malcolm, just before Hoshi pushed Malcolm from behind in order to give Trip a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Missed you, Trip!" said Hoshi.

"Likewise," said Trip, and then Archer pressed Hoshi forwards in her turn.

"Hey, Trip," said Jon.

"Oooo," said Hoshi, her voice fading as she moved deeper into the house. "Nice place!"

"Hi, Jon," said Trip. "How are you, man?"

"I'm all right," said Jon, looking quite dejected: a captain without a ship was a tragic figure.

"Come on, let's get you a drink," said Trip.

"Right," said Jon, looking around as he followed Trip to the bar.

"Guys," said Trip, calling out to the rest. "Let me set you up with a drink."

"Hoshi's right, this place is great," said Jon, looking around the room at the gray couches with silver accents, the African Blackwood coffee table inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and a bronze statue of a dog named Brian Griffin, with a martini glass in his left paw, something which Trip had cast years ago… "This stuff is from your place on Earth. I recognize it all. Planning on staying here a while, I guess, eh?"

"Yeah," said Trip. "I can always ship it back if I don't."

"I sometimes forget you're filthy rich off your book deal," said Archer. "I'm guessing you paid for this place outright, eh?"

"Yep."

"Of course you did, you prick," said Jon. "Give me a vodka martini!"

"Coming up," said Trip, then looked up at Hoshi and Travis as they came up to the bar. "What's your poison, Hoshi?"

"Appletini, stud," said Hoshi.

"I've got something special for you, Travis," said Trip, as he handed Jon his drink, and began working on Hoshi's appletini.

"What's that?" said Travis, smiling, since he wasn't much of a drinker, though Trip had turned him on to sake and sipping quality rum, so Travis knew it would be one of the two.

Trip placed a chilled bottle of daiginjo sake and two shot glasses atop the bar, after which he turned his attention to completing Hoshi's drink.

"Top them off, Travis," said Trip, then looked at Malcolm and Dillard who were making their way to the bar.

"I have a good Irish whiskey, Malcolm," said Trip.

"Perfect," said Malcolm.

"Chief?" said Trip, looking at Dillard, Enterprise's Chief Engineer.

"Bourbon, please," said Dillard.

Trip got the first drinks out, took two shots of sake with Travis, then set up another round of drinks.

"So how big is this place?" said Hoshi. "Tell me about it."

"It's a bit larger than the average bear," said Trip, "but not overly so. I didn't want to be obnoxious, so I bought it more for the scenery, the beach access and the large workshop in the back of the house."

"I need details, Captain Tucker!" said Hoshi. "I'm trying to decide if I should move in, become your mistress, and then your baby's mama. How big?"

"How big?" said Travis, laughing. "You want to know how big?"

"The house, fool!" said Hoshi. "Captain Tucker, I demand an answer!"

"Five bedrooms, two studies, two living rooms, a formal dining room, a large kitchen with a 6-top dinette attached to it, and a couple of smaller utility rooms."

"Nice!" said Hoshi. "Ok, my left ovary just dropped an egg. I'm in!"

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" said Trip.

Jon groaned at that, as did Malcolm, while Dillard and Travis laughed aloud at Trip's quip, and just then SubCommander Senva, Ayvok and his mate, Serrese, reached the house, and rang the bell. Once inside, introductions were made all around, after which Trip poured Ayvok sake, while Serrese and Senva chose some sweetened redweed tea prepared by the caterer.

Together, they'd all begun a lively discussion by the time that T'Pol and her mother joined the party, and while T'Pol also chose the redweed tea, Trip seduced T'Les into trying some Japanese plum wine, and the Vulcan's pleasure in tasting that wine was genuine.

Erika was next through the door, and she came bearing housewarming presents: a vase for Trip's house, some dark chocolates filled with sweetened coconut shreds, and a kiss and hug for Trip, which made T'Les raise brow - was this woman the reason things had not worked out between Trip and T'Pol?

Shran and Talas followed Erika, and Shran came with a case of fine Andorian ale for the party, which Trip repaid with a couple of Hurricanes. Admiral Ryan was next to the party, and everyone but the Vulcans were lightly buzzed and having a good time, without being obnoxious, and for his part, Ryan was glad to loosen up a bit as well.

T'Fel was next to the party, and last of all came Soval.

"Vorstel e'lanya, Soval," said Trip, when Soval was shown in: "Thank you for coming, Soval."

"Kashtri neval," said Soval: Thank you for asking me."

A few Vulcan words spoken as a courtesy by Trip, the courtesy returned by Soval, and there was truly nothing to it, save for the fact that Archer saw and heard that exchange, and frankly, it rubbed the man all wrong… Soval was a dick, as Archer saw things, so why was Trip getting all cozy with him?! It bothered Archer enough that he spoke of it, once Soval had moved on to greet the other people here this evening.

"So, what?" said Jon. "You and Soval are all buddy-buddy now?"

Trip looked at Jon with a slight frown, then said, "Look, I don't have a problem with him, Jon. You've got a problem with him, so that's your thing, not mine."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Jon, "though I'd appreciate some fucking loyalty."

Trip just shook his head at that and walked away: he wasn't going to ruin his night over Jon's bullshit.

The catering staff had taken over the bar by now, and the guests had spread throughout the the house, and the unfenced back yard which had a great view of the boats making their passage over the Voroth Sea in the dying light, so Trip had no trouble pulling T'Fel aside, under the guise of getting her set up with a drink. Though Trip was casual about it all, T'Les watched them discreetly, and a bit later when T'Fel was being shown around the house by Ensign Sato, as if Hoshi already owned the house, T'Les approached Trip.

"This is a beautiful property, Trip," said T'Les.

Trip nodded, and said, "Well, I hope you'll visit me here again, T'Les."

"Will T'Fel visit you here again?"

"I suppose almost everyone here might visit here again," said Trip, wearing his poker face. "Why do you ask?"

"I am just wondering if she, or perhaps Captain Hernandez, are the reason that you and T'Pol are no longer close," said T'Les. "The Human kissed you, and T'Fel seems enamored with you."

"Hoshi kissed me too before you got here too, T'Les," said Trip. "Kisses are sometimes traded between close friends, among Humans."

"And what of T'Fel?"

Trip said nothing, though he took a sip his newly acquired redweed tea while maintaining eye contact with T'Les, and the silence said volumes.

"What happened with you two, Trip?" said T'Les, meaning what happened with you and T'Pol.

"I don't want to talk about it, T'Les. If you must know, ask T'Pol."

"She will not speak of it to me."

"Neither will I, T'Les," said Trip. "Now, can we move on, and just enjoy ourselves this evening?"

"She misses you, Trip. She cried in my arms the other night, and that's something I've not seen her do since she was a small child."

"T'Les…" said Trip. "I'm sorry T'Pol is in pain, I really am. We'll get through it, we'll be ok, and hopefully we'll save our friendship."

"She wants more than your friendship, Trip," said T'Les.

Trip was about to respond, when T'Pol entered the room, and T'Les clammed up.

"This is a lovely house, Trip," said T'Pol.

Trip nodded, and T'Pol studied him closely, frowned slightly, then looked suspiciously at T'Les.

"What are you two talking about?" said T'Pol.

"Just hoping to wrangle an invitation back here, T'Pol," said T'Les, her heart racing, for she was certain that T'Pol would not be pleased by the content of her conversation with Captain Tucker. "Isn't that right, Trip?"

"It is," said Trip. "Come on, let's eat."

The catering company which Trip had hired had set up a portable outdoor kitchen earlier in the day, to supplement the house kitchen, and they'd been cooking for the past hour… nothing was prepped beforehand and ferried here, for the owner of this catering company took pride in serving only the freshest local produce, cooked in the traditional style of Ralla province, and thus the food provided was a treat for all.

The first dish served was a fresh green salad, dressed with a sweet & tangy dressing and topped with some huge grilled shrimp for those that would eat them, for the Vulcans living on the coast had eaten seafood long before Surak's coming, and did so even after Surak's time… and that salad was followed by a plate sized fluffy flatbread topped with spiced potatoes and roasted cauliflower, drizzled with some tart imported yogurt, and all that sprinkled with fresh shredded herbs.

In turn, that dish was followed by a six inch spinach pie and a half dozen assorted purees through which to drag the spinach pie, as well as some deep fried tidbits and some imported feta cheese, and lastly, a rich soup seasoned with a rich melange of hot and aromatic spices, and leavened with potatoes, faux sausage, chickpeas and kelp… and all that before a proper dessert course with a dozen sweet choices, served with coffee or hot tea.

The meal went well enough, for this eclectic mix of people got along quite well, and if the Vulcans were more reserved then the Humans, the good will was still palpable… in general, that is. Jon had never gotten along with Soval, and Trip knew that Soval felt the same about Jon, but they simply avoided each other, for the sake of group harmony, and once the meal was finished, everyone broke up in discreet groups, as some guests went down to the water, while others checked out the boat, and still others remained behind in the house.

T'Pol was one of the group which had remained on the bluff above, looking down on the others below, and she saw Ayvok and his mate Serrese walking along the beach, and their mutual affection was plain to see, which was natural enough, given that they'd just concluded their pon'farr cycle… and T'Pol sighed at that. That could have easily been her, walking with her mate, had things gone otherwise, and T'Pol could not help but watch them, feeling some measure of regret.

The next place T'Pol's attention settled was no better, for she could see Lt-Commander Reed and Lieutenant Talas speaking privately behind a huge rock thrust up from the ground right at the water's edge; that rock concealed them from the others on the beach, but not from T'Pol, considering her vantage point, and their conversation seemed overly familiar, given that their bodies were pressed against each other... clearly neither Reed nor Talas had any notions of personal space, where the other was concerned.

Wonderful, thought T'Pol, feeling no such thing as wonder now.

She turned her eyes away from the excessively familiar couple, and saw Archer, Shran and Travis, laughing as they backed away from a krethas, a blue furred marine mammal which bore a noticeable resemblance to one of Earth's small harbor seals, save that its snout was broad and round, rather than pointy, and its head bore three small horns, arranged in a triangular pattern. Apparently the krethas was defending a nest, and once Shran, Archer and Travis backed up far enough, the krethas stopped pursuing the unwelcome intruders from her sands.

T'Pol then looked at the pier, where Trip was showing Dillard, and T'Fel the motor cruiser which had come with the house… Trip, and Dillard were clearly fascinated by the elegantly put together cruiser and were discussing it excitedly, but it was clear that T'Fel felt none of that excitement for a machine, for she only had eyes for Trip, and her attention and her focus were palpable for T'Pol, even from this distance. Just then, Trip turned and looked up at the house, where he saw T'Pol watching them, and he was not surprised to see her there, for he'd felt a wave of longing and regret wash over him, and that wave could have originated nowhere else, but T'Pol…

"This is a lovely part of Vulcan," said Soval, looking at T'Pol. "I have always loved Ralla province."

"It is quite beautiful," said T'Pol.

"It is so odd," said Soval thoughtfully.

"What is that, Soval?"

"Humans display such variety," said Soval. "Some of them hate alien contact, while others, like Captain Tucker, take to so naturally."

"You have no idea, Soval," said T'Pol.

"What do you mean?" said Soval, for there seemed to be a story or two behind T'Pol's statement.

And there were indeed a number of stories, for T'Pol told Soval of the time Captain Tucker had been impregnated by a Xyrillian, then told him of his fling with Kaitaama, the robbery he and Lt-Commander Reed had suffered at the hands of shape-shifting aliens, and another half dozen such stories, and Soval was clearly amused.

"I had no idea that Captain Tucker was so accomplished in diplomacy," said Soval. "StarFleet should shift him to their diplomatic corps."

"Indeed," said T'Pol, amused by Soval's dry recommendation.

* * *

"So," said T'Les, looking at Hoshi as that ensign popped a coconut macaroon in her mouth, "how long have you known Captain Tucker?"

"Oh, two years now, I guess."

"Are you two close, or do you confine yourselves solely to your duties?" said T'Les. "I ask because I'm unfamiliar with Human dynamics."

"We're all close, T'Les," said Hoshi, "but that's to be expected in a crew which has faced many hair-raising situation together."

T'Les nodded, and said, "Yes, I would imagine that would be the case. My daughter certainly finds her tour aboard Enterprise quite interesting."

"She had a hard time fitting in at first," said Hoshi, "but that became less of an issue over time, and now she's one of us. We all respect her as a person, and an excellent officer, T'Les. We're lucky to have her."

"That pleases me, Ensign," said T'Les. "Does she have any close friends aboard your ship?"

"As I said, we're all close, T'Les," said Hoshi, "but Trip was her closest friend aboard Enterprise, though they don't see as much of each other now… and I noticed that she's been quieter since he left the ship, so she probably misses him a bit."

"I wonder if they've ever thought of turning their friendship into something more," said T'Les, coming the the heart of the matter, and dropping it quite casually into the conversation.

"We've often wondered the same thing, T'Les," said Hoshi with a laugh. "There were numerous rumors and speculations over that very question, but we never came up with any proof. That could mean that nothing ever existed, or it could just mean that they're good at sneaking around! If you ever find out what's going on there, I'd consider it a personal favor if you clued me in."

"You may count upon it," said T'Les, disappointed that she'd get no relevant information on what happened between Trip and T'Pol from this Ensign.

* * *

Time had passed, and Dillard had taken Ayvok and his mate, as well as Archer, Travis and Shran on a ride in Trip's motor cruiser, while Trip had stayed behind on the pier with Erika, the two friends speaking as they watched Dillard racing that boat like he'd just robbed a bank.

Eventually Erika left the pier in order to use the restroom, after which she refreshed her drink and chatted with Soval at the bar, and just then Malcolm walked out on the pier, handing Trip a beer.

"Thanks," said Trip.

Malcolm nodded, and said, "I appreciate you having me here today, Trip. It's been a real treat."

"Glad you enjoyed it, Malcolm."

"I wasn't sure if you'd ever want to deal with me outside of our official duties, given what's happened," said Malcolm.

Trip took a swill of beer, then said, "We all have to get over it, Malcolm."

"She misses you, you know," said Malcolm. "After you left Enterprise, she just wasn't the same… She retreated back into her shell, Trip, acting almost as she did when she first boarded the ship. You remember that, right? Distant, aloof. But she's not really like that any more, and she's suffering."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Malcolm," said Trip, "but she'll get over it, you know that. We've all gone through break ups, and you know that time and perspective have a way of working those things out."

Malcolm understood that viewpoint... breakups were a common occurrence among Humans, but perhaps he was forgetting that T'Pol was a Vulcan.

"I don't know that applies to T'Pol, Trip, given her species," said Malcolm. "I haven't seen any bounce back from her."

"Listen," said Trip, a bit put off at discussing this matter with Malcolm, "T'Les already talked to me about T'Pol, and now you. Why don't you all mind your own business? The last people I want to hear from, where T'Pol is concerned, is you and Jon. You understand?"

Malcolm was silent for a bit, then said, "I do understand. Sorry, Trip."

After a few minutes worth of silence, Trip said, "Forget it, Malcolm."

* * *

Eventually, the hours passed, and Soval left the party first, taking T'Les and T'Pol with him. Erika followed soon after, but departing with a kiss and a hug which made Jon scowl, and after Erika, Shran and Talas made said their farewells. Ayvok and his mate followed a half hour afterward, and an hour later the Enterprise's crew finally called it quits, leaving Trip and T'Fel alone at last.

"That was a wonderful party, Trip," said T'Fel, as she found the man staring out to sea, at the lit ships passing by the house. "Much livelier than most Vulcan parties."

"Mmmm, hmmm," said Trip, pleased, but exhausted after a long day.

He drew T'Fel close and hugged the Vulcan, after which she spun around, savoring Trip's embrace while they looked at the passing lights together.

"You really love this place, don't you?" said T'Fel. "I can tell."

"I'd live out here in a tent, if I had to," said Trip. "I used to hate desert planets, but Vulcan's grown on me, despite how small your seas."

"Small?"

"Seventy-one percent of Earth is covered by water," said Trip, "while Vulcan's seas cover, what, thirty percent of Vulcan?"

"Twenty-two, but Vulcan is a larger planet," said T'Fel. "Even so, our seas are beautiful."

"I won't dispute that point," said Trip, kissing T'Fel's neck. "Come on, let's go to bed. We can snuggle and watch the waves roll in, or I can give it to you rough. Which do you prefer?"

"I think we both know the answer to that, Captain Tucker," said T'Fel.

"Rough it is."


	53. Chapter 53

— **Chapter 53 —**

* * *

"That was a nice house warming party," said Hoshi as she stepped into the turbo-lift, back aboard Enterprise now.

"Mmm, hmm, it was nice," said Malcolm.

"I don't think I'll ever eat again," said Hoshi, rubbing her stomach ostentatiously. "That was a feast."

"Yeah," said Malcolm.

"What's the matter, Malcolm?" said Hoshi.

Malcolm said, "Nothing. I'm just in a funky mood, I guess. Forget about it."

"Ok,"said Hoshi. "Come to my cabin. I've gotten my greedy little hands on that Peter Gabriel album you've been searching for, from the Circe's Comm officer. We can listen to it while we nibble on a few of Chef's brownies."

"All right," said Malcolm, as he and Hoshi had done such things before this night. "But wait, I thought you just said you'd never eat again."

"Sweets don't count, silly!" said Hoshi. "Besides I need something sweet to take the edge off!"

Malcolm snorted, and said, "Ok."

Ten minutes later they were back in Hoshi's quarters, and while Hoshi fiddled with her computer, Malcolm chided her mercilessly over the plateful of brownies she'd grabbed from the Mess Hall.

"Shhhh!" said Hoshi, for she'd just begun the playback of the music stream she'd used to lure Malcolm here… and as the music played, Malcolm's hands got busy.

"Harder!" said Hoshi, even as the music played. "Rougher! Really give it to me, Malcolm!"

"Right," said Malcolm.

He grabbed hold of Hoshi's sock covered feet and began really working them over now, which wrung a series of deep moans out of Ensign Sato, for Hoshi had extracted a twenty minute foot massage as payment for the trouble she'd gone through in order to get her hands on that particular album: Shaking the Tree.

"You've got a magic touch, Malcolm."

"You have no idea," said Malcolm.

"Oh?" said Hoshi.

"Forget it," said Malcolm.

"Tell me!"

"No," said Malcolm.

"You know," said Hoshi, "you can only keep this mysterious Brit routine going for so long? Eventually you'll have to come out and play, Malcolm."

Malcolm chuckled at that and resumed rubbing Hoshi's feet.

"No, no," said Hoshi, taking the bit, "I mean it!"

"Ok, love," said Malcolm, humoring Hoshi.

"Don't say you love me, if you don't!" said Hoshi, waving her sock clad foot beneath Malcom's nose now.

"It's a turn of phrase, love."

"See," said Hoshi, "you've done it again, even after I warned you! Now you'll have to pay for that."

"I am not certain that I like the sound of that," said Malcolm.

Hoshi pulled her feet in, spun round and leaned in, to kiss Malcolm…

"That was nice," said Malcolm, surprised by Hoshi's boldness.

"Good. I've wanted to do that for a while," said Hoshi, her eyes bright with excitement, "and the booze Trip poured down my throat tonight helped quell the butterflies in my stomach."

"In that case, I'll have Trip bartend for us as often as possible," said Malcolm.

"I saw you and Talas sneak away from the party, hiding out behind that rock," said Hoshi. "How serious is it?"

"Not very," said Malcolm honestly. "We have good chemistry, but we may never meet again."

"Lucky me," said Hoshi, leaning in for a deeper kiss.

* * *

The entire upper echelon of the Romulan political apparatus was gathered in the Senate chambers on this day, for this was a formal occasion - this was the day on which the Consul, R'Hienn, would formally declare irrith'dan, invoking the Star Empire's divine right of conquest over the Alpha Quadrant, and declare his intent to lead the might of the Romulan Navy against the Federation. Although the declaration was a mere formality, for this course of action had been decided upon years ago, the formal declaration was still important and meaningful, legally speaking, as the Romulans saw things.

Accordingly, everyone was dressed for the occasion, the Consul, the Praetor and the Senators in their whitest togas, even as the Senate Chamber guards wore armor recreated in the old Vulcan style, to go along with the Vulcan style swords they normally wore at their hips, for the Romulans were not the least bit contemptuous of the old Vulcan ways, the ways of passion and war, only the effeminate ways brought about by that disgusting weakling Surak, a blight upon the true Vulcan soul… and it was impossible to describe the contempt in which the Romulans held Surak, for he'd practically destroyed his own people, but that would soon change, for the Vulcans would soon recall their heritage and embrace their past once more, or they'd be wiped out, their shame blotted from this universe.

The Consul's declaration of war took a full hour to make, for R'Hienn was a master orator and made use of this occasion to fire up enthusiasm for the coming military venture, after which the celebrations began, not just in the Senate chambers, but all throughout the Star Empire.

* * *

The Vulcan High Command's public chambers were packed for there was plenty of business to handle this day, though most of it of low to middling priority. The truly important issues were handled immediately, but even so, these lessor matters needed attention as well, thus some eight hundred people packed this public chamber this day, Admiral Ryan, Archer and T'Pol among them, although the Humans were here solely to hear T'Pol testify upon the merits and challenges of integrating StarFleet with the Vulcan Navy, given that they were now essentially joined into a larger fleet by the Articles of Federation.

And give the members of the High Command their due, for they moved through their work load quickly, either deciding upon an issue on the spot, or passing it off to a subcommittee for further study if such an action was truly warranted, and so Archer was hopeful that he'd hear T'Pol speak within the hour, and salvage something of his day… and then, something unexpected happened, when Trip stepped up to the podium from somewhere on the other side of the room, T'Fel by his side.

Captain Tucker's presence was unexpected for T'Pol as well, and she wondered idly if this was the man's first appearance before the High Command, or if he'd been here before on other occasions. She then wondered as to his purpose here, but what truly irked T'Pol now, was the presence of the poised Vulcan by Captain Tucker's side, T'Fel.

Just then, Captain Tucker began speaking, and he addressed the High Command in nearly fluent Vulcan, for he'd come far in his grasp of the language since he'd left Enterprise, and neither Archer, nor Ryan, had any trouble following along due to their comm units with running translator apps, and discreet earbuds.

"Tek'Surron stands complete and ready for war," said Trip, for a literal translation of Vulcan sometimes sounded oddly formal and slightly odd to an English listener, "but I come to ask thee for an indulgence. The ship is thine, but Vulcan, Andorian, Human and Denobulan technology are a part of Tek'Surron, and I desire to see that the technological integration is seamless and complete."

Archer listened as Trip made his case before the High Command, annoyed that Trip was so cozy with the Vulcans… and speaking of cozy, Archer's eyes ran over the figure of the Vulcan beauty next to Trip, and Jon couldn't help but wonder of the nature of her relationship to Trip. It was just a hunch, for the Vulcan's body language was perfectly proper, though he'd have sworn he'd spotted some tells of intimacy at the house warming party, but then Jon acknowledged that he might well be mistaken in that interpretation, for he was dealing with an alien's body language.

Still, the way she looks at him, thought Archer...

Snapping back to the present moment, Archer saw Administrator Te'Rok nod in agreement, then say, "Your words are reasonable, Captain Tucker. What ask thee of the High Command?"

"I seek permission to crew Tek'Surron," said Trip, "and test the ship extensively."

Te'Rok did not need to consult the other Administrators on this matter, for the workings of the Vulcan Navy was his domain, and said, "Within three days, you'll have your crew, Captain Tucker."

"Gratitude, Administrator Te'Rok," said Trip.

With that Trip left the podium, heading for an exit from these chambers, T'Fel by his side, for she'd had no other business to conclude here. She'd come to translate for Trip in case the High Command had questions for Captain Tucker and the man needed help with some unusual phrases, and as the two moved for the exit, they passed Ryan, Archer & T'Pol.

Ryan was reading something on his PADD unit, but Trip made brief eye contact with Archer and T'Pol, giving them both a slight smile as he moved past them.

T'Fel came next, but for T'Pol that woman's passage felt odd, for the Vulcan ignored Archer, having eyes only for T'Pol, and that eye contact seemed strange to T'Pol, for T'Fel seemed irritated with her…

Odd that, thought T'Pol, for if either of us has just cause to be irritated with the other, surely I am the one.

* * *

"What's wrong, my dear?" said Trip, back in his office now after making his request of the High Command.

"It has just been a long day," said T'Fel.

"You sure?" said Trip. "Talk to me."

He'd already had a serious discussion with T'Fel a few days after the crew exchange meeting during which he'd realized that he and T'Pol were truly Bonded, certain at that point that it was not just a matter of a few silly dreams and harmless daydreams, and once Trip had accepted what was apparently a fact, he'd spoken of that matter with T'Fel. He'd told her that T'Pol had been his previous lover, now apparently Bonded to him, or he to her, depending how one saw such things, and he told T'Fel that the Bond had been an unexpected development, and an unwelcome one as far as he'd been concerned at the time.

T'Fel had doubted Trip's words, for a Bond was not easily refuted, and a spontaneous Bond never formed without just cause, and so Trip had shared with T'Fel the full course of events between him and T'Pol, which just stirred to pot even more so, for as a Vulcan, T'Fel understood the physiological demands placed on T'Pol, though she was uncertain that she understood T'Pol's logic.

Nevertheless, that was beside the point now, for naturally, T'Fel had been taken aback by that disclosure. Bonds between mates had meaning on Vulcan, and what's more, a Bond between a Vulcan and an alien was unheard of, so what to make of it all?

For his part, Trip had given T'Fel the space she'd needed to digest that startling information, and a chance to decide if she wanted to continue their relationship, even as he'd made it clear to the Vulcan that her presence was desired… eventually, T'Fel had decided to wait until Captain Tucker and T'Pol figured out how they'd handle the Bond, and until then, T'Fel had resolved to keep things light and pleasant, so that if nothing else, she and Trip would have some good memories of their time together. However, that didn't mean that T'Fel wasn't subject to occasional feelings of jealousy over T'Pol, and Trip sensed that his was one of those times.

"It is T'Pol," said T'Fel. "Earlier, she looked at you with hunger in her eyes, and it irritated me."

"You seemed to get along just fine at the house warming party?"

"I largely avoided T'Pol at the party," said T'Fel. "I did not wish to ruin your day."

Trip held his arms out and T'Fel walked into them, to be embraced.

Eventually, she said, "I have to get back to work."

Trip nodded, gave the Vulcan three pecks on her right cheek and said, "Dinner tonight?"

"Yes," said T'Fel. "Where?"

""My quarters, a restaurant in the city, or a quiet evening in Ralla. You choose."

"Let us go down to Ralla," said T'Fel. "Let us go down to the sea."

Trip smiled, and said, "Great. Let's get some work done 'till then."

T'Fel nodded and left the room, leaving Trip alone with his thoughts. He really liked it here, liked this assignment more than he'd expected, appreciated Vulcan more than he'd expected, cared for T'Fel more than he'd expected when he'd first met her… they weren't even hiding as such, though they weren't obvious about their relationship, but frankly Trip just didn't give a damn. For his part, he'd long decided that if the Vulcans or StarFleet had a problem with it, he'd fold, resign his commission and move on with his life. He'd long had ideas for developing a tech company, and he had no plans to turn his back on T'Fel in fear of StarFleet's displeasure.

As for her part, the Vulcan seemed so careless over discovery that he'd asked T'Fel the reason for that laissez-faire attitude… her response was that such things were not handled as in StarFleet. Vulcan couples often served together, and Vulcans saw no problem with it, unless it became a problem… thus, even if their relationship was discovered, privacy codes would keep it a personal matter, unless their performance and/or efficiency suffered, in which case she'd be reassigned, but T'Fel had assured Trip that was not going to happen, and T'Fel's word was good enough for Trip.


	54. Chapter 54

— **Chapter 54 —**

* * *

The day after his pleasant evening in Ralla with T'Fel, was all work for Trip.

The first order of business was to review the last touches being applied to Tek'Surron - oh, the ship was complete and ready for duty, save for a paint job, but that was in progress even now, as Tek'Surron had just received it's third coat of the glossy red paint which Vulcans favored for their ships, and another ten layers were scheduled to be laid down this coming week. Moving through the ship, with the lead engineer of this project, Trip covered every part of the ship with a fine toothed comb, but this crew of engineers had done a fine job, and Trip saw nothing to correct in the work done here. The Tek'Surron was ready for war.

"Great job here," said Trip, addressing a few of the senior engineers who'd drifted his way at the close of the inspection, for Trip was well regarded by his fellow engineers, and his opinion meant something to these men. "Great job! This old girl is ready for action, and if things go bad, she'll do her part to defend Vulcan, never fear."

The thought that Tek'Surron might play a part in defending Vulcan was more than enough reward for all the work put into this ship, so far as these Vulcan engineers were concerned, but Captain Tucker's visible excitement over this ship was both, amusing and gratifying, for it was something Vulcans would not truly allow themselves, but it was something they appreciated in their captain.

A working lunch with Senva was next on the itinerary, during which the two colleagues discussed the progress made on arming the Uzh Palik, for the upcoming test, the second trial which the Uzh Palik would face. The first trial had tested the ability of Uzh Palik's integrated shields to shrug off weapons damage from a single Vulcan battlecruiser, while this upcoming test would see five battlecruisers combining forces to attempt to bring down the Uzh Palik's shields, while avoiding the return fire coming from the Uzh Palik. Should the station fare well in this upcoming trial, it would validate the concept of Deep Space stations, and move that concept to the exploratory stage, where serious money and attention would be dedicated to exploring this new class of spacecraft.

"I want to ace this upcoming test, Senva," said Trip at the close of their lunch, "and I want to make certain the targeting subroutines are perfectly synchronized with all the new gun batteries we've added - I know Selvek and his team are working on it now, but let's get them some help from Vulcan, if they need it."

"Yes, Captain," said Senva. "I will speak with Selvek soon, and determine where we stand."

Trip nodded, and said, "Anything else which needs our attention?"

"Tek'Surron's crew, which was promised you, will be here in two days," said Senva, "but your ship's First Officer will be here later today, to introduce himself to you. A Sr-Lieutenant Telok."

"Good deal," said Trip. "Ok, I'm off for Engineering, and then Bays 34, 111 and 120. Get a hold of me there, if you need anything."

"Yes, Captain," said Senva.

* * *

Now, after a twenty day flight from Vulcan, three Vulcan cruisers reached the very edges of the Alpha Quadrant of space, coincidentally a location only a few light years from where the Enterprise had been very nearly gutted by a cloaked Romulan mine, and then these three cruisers passed that point by a dozen lightyears or so, presumably entering the Romulan Star Empire, for the sheer vastness of space in all three dimensions made airtight borders an impossibility.

At that point these cruisers launched a number of probes, forty-nine in all… once clear of the Vulcan ships, each probe activated its engine which propelled the drone along a pre-selected vector, the probes almost evenly divided among the nine star systems which Biell's experiments had pointed out as items of interest.

These probes were not visually cloaked, but they were energetically shielded through a manufacturing process which relied on exotic alloys. What's more, the probes made use of their engines in random patterns, gliding a great deal of the time, and so to all intents these probes were practically invisible as they moved through Romulan space, occasionally transmitting their status and discoveries back to Vulcan through encrypted micro-burst transmissions which resembled nothing more than low-level energetic noises.

Their mission now accomplished, the Vulcan cruisers altered course, and headed back to the Alpha Quadrant at best speed, glad to have avoided any entanglements with the Romulans.

* * *

"Don't! Stop!" said T'Fel, for Trip was gently pressing her nostrils together with his fingers.

The man had a strange obsession with her nose, and when asked the reason why, he'd merely stated, 'It's just so damned cute.'

"You know that I can only breathe through my nose, so when you do that, I suffocate!" said T'Fel.

Trip laughed at that, and said, "Oh, please!"

"It is true," said T'Fel. "It is a fact! If I were ever to get a cold, as Humans do, and become nasally congested, I would die!"

Trip just laughed harder at that, for he knew that 'fact' was far from being factually accurate.

"Ok," said Trip, when he finally stopped laughing, "I apologize."

As a peace offering, Trip dragged a bit of pita bread through some hummus, and raised it to T'Fel's mouth.

"Take a bite," said Trip.

"No."

"Take a bite, T'Fel. I made it, and I guarantee you'll like it."

Dubiously, T'Fel took a bite, then nodded her head in agreement with Trip's assessment.

"Oh, that is good, Trip. What is it?"

"My custom made hummus," said Trip. "The trick is to use chana, an Indian variant of the chickpea, which is split in half, thus turning chana into chana dal, a split chana pea. See, the splitting process eliminates the fibrous skin normally found in the typical chickpea, thus making for a smoother, creamier hummus."

"Well, it is quite good," said T'Fel. "You will have to make it for me again."

Trip nodded, and they continued eating, with T'Fel constantly pilfering hummus off his plate until it was gone.

"Do you want to go the the Metropolitan Museum tonight?" said T'Fel. "They have an exhibit—"

"I'm sorry, cubbie, I can't," said Trip. "I've got lots to do tonight. Let's save it for later this week."

"All right," said T'Fel. "I suppose a quiet evening will allow me to work on my Oslo sculpture."

"Oslo?" said Trip, for he was unfamiliar with the term.

"It is a six-legged, bear like creature, of the Southern Hemisphere of Regulus," said T'Fel.

"Interesting," said Trip, his curiosity piqued at the thought of a six legged bear. "I can't wait to see it."

* * *

Archer was displeased with the latest dispatch from StarFleet's HQ, but there wasn't much he could do about it, so he activated the Comm and reached out to the Bridge.

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol, from her station on the Bridge.

"My Ready Room, please."

"On my way," said T'Pol, and moments later she walked into the captain's Ready Room.

"Take a seat," said Archer, and slid a PADD unit towards T'Pol.

"Congratulations, T'Pol," said Archer. "You've just made captain, and been granted command of the Heracles, a Delus class ship just out of spacedock, and en route to Vulcan now."

"I will have to check with the High Command before assuming that position in StarFleet, Captain," said T'Pol.

"The High Command put its stamp of approval on this promotion. It's in your commission," said Archer. "Since the Articles of Federation bind us all, as I understand it your new rank applies equally to the navies of all signatory species, so although we're just beginning the process of integration, if you should desire to transfer out of StarFleet, I'll assume they'll give you command of a Vulcan ship, if they have one available. Better yet, maybe a Tellarite, Denobulan or Andorian ship."

Archer grinned at that last bit, while T'Pol just looked at the man, for they both knew that the Andorians would NEVER allow a Vulcan to command an Andorian ship.

Anyway, in truth, T'Pol knew that she was young for the rank of captain, and so she was content to command a Delus class ship, for the alternative in the Vulcan Navy for a newly frocked captain was usually command of a transport ship, or perhaps a medical ship, both of which presented a much less interesting assignment.

"That PADD unit has the details of your commission, Captain, and the Heracles will be here four days from now," said Archer. "I hate to lose you, T'Pol. You've been the best XO I've ever had, but your promotion is well earned."

"Thank you, Captain," said T'Pol.

"Listen," said Archer, "I need the room a bit longer, but after that I'll take the Bridge and give you the Ready Room, if you want to discuss the particulars of your promotion with the High Command."

"No need, Captain," said T'Pol. "If the High Command signed off on my promotion to command a StarFleet ship, my orders are clear."

"Ok," said Archer. "Send Reed in here, please."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Pol, and moments later, T'Pol's place was taken by Malcolm.

"I'll keep this short, Malcolm," said Archer. "T'Pol is getting her own ship, and you're taking her place as my XO. You've got more practical deep space experience than most officers in the fleet, so do a good job and I imagine that you'll make full commander in under a year… hell, with a war going on, you might make captain within a year."

"Yes, sir," said Malcolm.

"Good," said Archer. "Send Ensigns Sato and Mayweather in, will you?"

"Yes, sir," said Malcolm, happy for them both: after two years with the Enterprise, both of them were due for promotion.

* * *

Later that night, by ship's time, T'Pol flipped through the PADD unit Archer had given her earlier, which contained all the details of her new command. Ship's specs, personnel files, standing orders which attached her to the 3rd Squadron, etc…

The good thing was that she'd be based on Vulcan, serving with the 3rd of five squadrons, and those squadrons serving under Admiral Ryan's overall command, tasked with keeping the trade routes between Earth and Vulcan open, as well as rendering assistance to any ships in distress along that route…

Well enough, as far as T'Pol was concerned, for though she'd be frequently gone from Vulcan, she'd be here on a much more frequent basis than during her tour with the Enterprise, and T'Les would be glad for that… would that Captain Tucker felt the same.

* * *

Trip had just called it quits for the evening, having just concluded an hour long meeting with Sr-Lieutenant Telok, second in the chain of command aboard Tek'Surron, and the two of them had gotten along quite well, with both committed to making certain that Tek'Surron would be a credit to the Vulcan Navy after an evaluation period which could last anywhere from six months to three years for large capital ships like the Tek'Surron.

But all that was for another day. For tonight, a hot shower and some sleep was about all that Trip could handle, though he swung by Mess Hall 5, the smallest of the worker's mess halls, which had grown into something of an after hours pub aboard the Uzh Palik, for it was where Uzh Palik's workers socialized after their shifts ended, though increasingly many of the ship's crews were beginning to make this a regular late night pitstop as well, given the jovial atmosphere, the good booze, and the solid, if limited menu available here.

"How are you, Captain?" said T'Lenn, the bartender here to serve each man his two drink limit.

"I'm all right, T'Lenn? You?"

"Living the dream, Captain," said T'Lenn, and Trip chuckled that. "What can I get for you?"

"Double meat burger with grilled green chile peppers, a thick slice of smoked provolone, a basket of Cajun fries, and a draft beer. Make it German."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Lenn, and moments later Trip had his beer.

"Hey, Trip."

"Hey," said Trip, looking at Malcolm as the man took the barstool next to his. "I never figured you for a social butterfly, Malcolm. What are you doing here?"

"It's Fish Friday," said Malcolm. "I'm here for my fried cod, green peas, fries and a pint of something nice."

"Well good for you," said Trip.

Just then T'Lenn swung by, and said, "Let me guess… Fish plate and a pear cider, right?"

"Yes," said Malcolm. "Thank you, T'Lenn."

Moments later Malcolm had his cider, and Trip said, "So what's up with you?"

"I just made XO of the Enterprise," said Malcolm. "T'Pol got her own command."

"That's great for both of you, Malcolm. Congratulations!"

"Thank you," said Malcolm.

"I bet your old man's going to be happy now, eh?"

"Yes," said Malcolm.

Malcolm's familial relations were… complicated. There was a strong military tradition on his father's side, and he'd been expected to join the Royal British Navy - that he'd gone his own way and joined StarFleet had not gone down well with Malcolm's family. That was bygone now, what with Earth at war and StarFleet at the cutting edge of the conflict, but being able to tell his family that he was now second in the chain of command of a ship at war, was more than enough to finally put Malcolm back in good standing with the entire clan, which was a nice change of pace.

Just then T'Lenn came back with Trip's burger and fries, Malcolm's fish platter.

"Another round for us both, please," said Trip, and moments later, T'Lenn had dropped off another beer, another pear cider.

"At this rate, you'll make commander soon, Malcolm," said Trip, right before biting into his burger.

"Hope so," said Malcolm, tucking into his own platter.

They spoke of other things then, and forty-five minutes later Trip crawled to his cabin, took a hot shower and crawled into bed. To his surprise he felt T'Fel there - he'd been so exhausted, he hadn't even noticed her 'till then. He stretched out, and T'Fel woke just enough to turn round, press herself into Trip's side, and sigh. Trip kissed the top of her head, and fell asleep within minutes.


	55. Chapter 55

— **Chapter 55 —**

* * *

For all that the Klingons were viewed as barbarians by many species, they were not fools, and they were well aware of the reasons for which the Romulans had requested a peace treaty... the Romulans were willing to give up a number of valuable planets and a swath of their empire in the Beta Quadrant, because they expected to gain far more than that by expanding into the Alpha Quadrant. Not a bad idea, and something worth considering by the Klingon High Council as well…

"This is too good an opportunity to pass up!" said Councilor Molor.

The Klingon High Council was composed of eleven members at this time, and their majority opinion was the official policy of the Klingon Empire, and Molor was even now attempting to sway the High Council to endorse his plan and invade the Romulan Empire, once the Romulans were fully engaged in the Alpha Quadrant.

"We can choose our time to rush the Romulan Empire, and we can roll the whole damned thing up like a rug, the newest province, the newest jewel in our glorious empire, brothers!" said Molor, passionately striving to swing five other councilors to his point of view.

"Molor has a grand vision," said Councilor Kargan, "but we all know that it will not be as easy as all that. The Snakes will not roll over for us. We all know what they're like! Were the Romulans truly so ripe for the picking, explain how they've held us at bay, and bloodied us often enough, in the fifteen centuries since they've founded their cursed empire."

"I do not say that they'll roll over," said Molor, "but the tactical advantages we would enjoy if we chose our time carefully, could not be overcome, no matter how fiercely they resist."

"We've had peace with the Romulans for what, ninety years now?" said Kargan. "If we start this thing, and if we can't finish it quickly, this engagement with the Romulans will become a bloody sore for decades."

"Oh, forgive me!" said Molor. "I thought I was addressing Klingon warriors, always ready to do battle for the glory of the Empire, but I see now that I'm trying to rouse dreams of conquest in a gaggle of frightened school girls!"

Several councilors snorted at that, and several more laughed aloud. Such histrionics were truly appreciated, even though the issues being deliberated now were of the gravest importance.

"Laugh now, cry later," said Kargan. "My grandfather fought the Romulans in the campaings of 59, 61 & 63 and he said they were the nastiest campaigns of his life, and not something he'd willingly repeat… now, perhaps Molor will call my grandfather a coward, eh?"

"No, I will not," said Molor, knowing full well that such words would not only lead to bloodshed with Kargan, but surely turn some of the other councilors against him, for Kargan's grandfather had won more than his fair share of glory and respect during the course of those same campaigns. "What I will do, is repeat myself. This is too good an opportunity to pass by, and if we do so, we are fools. Think of the glory, think of the wealth, think of the territory…"

"Think also of the Gorn," said Councilor Krell, who supported Kargan's position.

Krell's point was a valid one, for the Gorn Hegemony had invaded two Klingon planets which bordered their own territory, and the matter was being debated now. The High Council would eventually vote to reconquer those planets, but no one was looking forward to that nasty bit of work.

"We are a warrior people, brothers," said Molor. "Trust me, we can do both, beat back the Gorn, and conquer the Romulan. Now, come, let us have a vote, and see where we stand."

The vote, when it came, was six to five for implementing Molor's plan… it had been a long time since the Klingon had warred against the Romulan, and Molor's vision of glory, wealth and territory won the day, if just barely so.

* * *

T'Pol stepped into Uzh Palik's Control, where she made eye contact with Senva, for although T'Pol was expected, politeness was never a waste of time.

"SubCommander," said T'Pol. "I am expected."

"Yes, Captain," said Senva. "Congratulations on your promotion."

"Gratitude," said T'Pol, and with that she made way for Trip's office.

"T'Pol!" said Trip a few moments later, when the Vulcan stepped into his office, genuinely glad to see her. "Or should I say, Captain?"

"T'Pol is fine," said the Vulcan, pleased nonetheless that her mate had taken note of her promotion.

"Have a seat on the couch," said Trip. "I have something for you."

"Very well," said T'Pol, mildly curious about Trip's something.

"Here we go," said Trip, depositing a fairly large box on T'Pol's lap.

"It is very pretty," said T'Pol, noting the festively bright wrapping paper, and somewhat overwhelmed by the size of the box. "What is it?"

"A present, for making Captain, T'Pol. Open it up!"

T'Pol began shredding her way into the box, for this was her first and only present for promotion - such things weren't customary on Vulcan.

"Don't be disappointed if it's not exactly what you want," said Trip. "It's the thought that counts."

"The thought does indeed count," said T'Pol, "and whatever you have for me, is more than enough."

"Just remember that sentiment, T'Pol."

"A tisleki pot," said T'Pol, a few moments later, irrationally pleased by a present she could not frequently use at this stage of her life.

A tisleki pot was a high grade clay pot, long considered a crucial item in every Vulcan kitchen, for it was this slow-cooking pot which was one of three cornerstones of Vulcan cooking.

"It's two pots actually, one stored within the other," said Trip. "The larger pot is for beans, curries and casseroles, and the smaller pot within is for bread or rice."

"Indeed," said T'Pol, removing the top lid to peek within the large pot and see the smaller pot within. "I am highly appreciative of this gift, Trip."

She took the smaller pot out, admired them both, for they were both beautifully glazed in abstract designs… in fact, so beautiful were these pots that T'Pol flipped them over to glance at the maker's mark, and ascertain their origins.

"These were made in Krella province!" said T'Pol.

"I was told they had the best clay," said Trip. "Was I misled?"

"Not at all," said T'Pol. "They do have the best clay and the best artisans for this type of product, in Krella province. Truly a lovely gift, Trip. Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Trip, sliding a small box towards T'Pol. "These were just an impulsive buy, since I know you can't cook aboard a ship, so here's what I'd originally bought for your present."

Within the box lay a beautiful worked platinum & gold IDIC medallion, the Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations emblem which encapsulated much of modern Vulcan philosophy, for it was part of Surak's message, which began with celebrating the diversity of Vulcan clans, in lieu of Vulcan slaughtering Vulcan.

"Thank you, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol. "They are, all three, beautiful gifts."

She'd said that in the most agreeable manner, and to the eyes of an onlooker T'Pol was the essence of Vulcan equanimity, but the Bond betrayed her inner state to Trip, and her inner state was in turmoil at the moment, for the previously circumvented mating instinct which was part and parcel of the Bond was asserting itself, placing demands on T'Pol's psyche now that her mate was clearly singled out, demands which Trip was better suited to resist as a function of his species, though he still perceived their tug on T'Pol.

"Would you like a drink?" said Trip, knowing that the alcohol would alter the fine tuned state of mind in which the Bond was strongest felt, and so dampen T'Pol's misery.

"No," said T'Pol, looking at Trip suspiciously, wondering if he sensed her turmoil.

"Ok, so tell me what's new in your life?" said Trip.

The two spent the next ninety minutes catching up on things… unfortunately neither of them could get past the deep sense of regret which literally poured from T'Pol this day, though she refused to acknowledged any part of it in their conversation.

What a fucking mess, thought Trip.

T'Pol must have felt something of his mood, or perhaps she just had better things to do, for she stood, and said, "Well, I should go. I have a full workload tomorrow."

Trip stood as well, and opened up his arms. T'Pol slipped easily into his embrace, after which Trip gave her a bear hug which just about crushed the breath from T'Pol's body, not that she minded… it was so good to feel the man's touch again, even so platonic a touch, and better yet, feel his emotions flowing through the Bond, and really feel the man's genuine affection for her, his desire that she find peace tonight, and the combination of touch and affection sensed, was more than enough to ground T'Pol tonight, and Trip felt it too.

"It was good to see you, T'Pol," said Trip.

"I feel the same," said T'Pol, slipping the IDIC medallion around her neck, and then carefully picking up her box with the two tisleki pots. "I thank you for these gifts. They are much appreciated."

"My pleasure, T'Pol," said Trip. "I expect to hear good things of the Heracles, and it's brilliant new captain."

"You shall," said T'Pol, and with that the Vulcan left Trip's office, oddly enough, with a contented heart.

* * *

With some eleven weeks still to go before the Romulan invasion of the Alpha Quadrant was scheduled to begin, the Romulan Consul, R'Hienn, was meeting with a representative of the Orion Syndicate, in order to discuss terms for their collaboration with the Romulan invasion, after which R'Hienn was scheduled to meet a Nausicaan representative for the same purpose, for although the Romulan Navy didn't truly need the help, every casualty inflicted upon the Federation by the Orions or the Nausicaans was one less opponent for the Romulans to deal with in their turn.

Still, R'Hienn had nothing but contempt for both these species, which largely made a living through theft, piracy, slavery and murder. True, one could make the case that the Romulans did the same, though in a far more organized and efficient manner, but the crucial distinction was that after the Romulans made a conquest, the newly conquered territory and peoples were assimilated into the Star Empire, to their eventual benefit, as R'Hienn saw things. Neither the Syndicate, nor the Nausicaans, could make that claim.

"I will bring your generous offer to the Syndicate's attention, Consul," said Orovel, the Syndicate's mouthpiece, who'd been sent here when the Romulans bid for alliance with the Syndicate. "Together, we'll smash the Federation, eradicate Andoria, and every one of those blue-skinned devils."

"Every single one of them, Orovel," said the Consul, smiling amiably, although, truth be told, R'Hienn meant to wipe out the Orions once their usefulness had ended… the Andorians had a better chance of surviving Romulan conquest, and all they had to do was bend knee and submit, for R'Hienn had heard enough of the Andorians to know they'd make a formidable addition to the Empire's forces…

"I shall present your offer in the best light, Consul," said Orovel, for he'd found a kindred spirit in the Romulan Consul, or so he believed, "and I will contact you as soon as possible with the Syndicate's answer."

"Do so, Orovel," said R'Hienn, smiling openly, even as he imagined castrating Orovel just for the hell of it.

Once the Orion had departed, loaded with fine jewelry meant to encourage him to give his best pitch to the Syndicate, the Nausicaan was shown in, and a similar period of negotiation followed, after which the Nausicaan departed, quite pleased with his gifts from the Consul, as well as an offer, and an assurance of power for his people in the future, if they should only choose to throw their lot in with the Romulans now…

Once the Nausicaans had departed, the Consul drew a servant's eye, and said, "I want this chamber scrubbed and aired, now. If the slightest trace of that filth remains in this chamber by tonight, I'll have you all flayed."

"Yes, Consul," said the servant, quite terrified by the Consul's threat.

"What would you have us do with the Orion wenches, Consul?" said a young tribune serving as his assistant for this day.

"Get rid of them," said the Consul, for the olfactory powers of the Orion females were known to the Romulans, and the Consul knew that these 'gifts' were given solely in order to manipulate him, for the benefit of their peoples…

"Yes, Consul," said the tribune.

* * *

"All departments report ready, Captain Tucker," said Sr-Lieutenant Telok, the Tek'Surron's First Officer.

Trip nodded and typed in an alpha-numerical sequence into the pad built into the captain's chair, then sent those coordinates to the Helm officer.

"Helm, set course for those coordinates at Warp 1," said Trip.

"Aye, Captain," said T'Ellere, the Tek'Surron's Helm Officer, and with that the ship departed Vulcan, for another destination within the Vulcan system… at Warp 1, the journey would take an hour, and though this ship could go much faster, Trip wanted to savor the flight.

An hour later the Tek'Surron pulled into an empty bay at the T'Lek Sor, the first place Trip had begun truly interacting with Vulcans en masse, in any sort of meaningful way, and once docked, a slender bridge was quickly extended, connecting the T'Les Sor to the Tek'Surron's access hatch.

"Requesting permission to come aboard, Captain Tucker," said Administrator Volok, for he'd almost rushed to board the Tek'Surron.

"Granted, Administrator Volok," said Trip with a smile, sensing Volok's eagerness. "I can't thank you enough for this old girl, Volok, but I can begin with a complete ship's tour."

"That is a good place to start," said Volok, and with that, the two men spent the next five hours traipsing up and down each and every hallway of the Tek'Surron, as well as each and every department, and Volok positively gushed with praise at the fruition of Trip's vision for this ship.

"It is a magnificent build, Trip!" said Volok. "I am positively awed by the work done here. I could not have done better than this, if I'd given it my all."

"I doubt that, Volok."

"Trip, it is true," said Volok. "Now, perhaps you could show me the schematics, and the specs, as we share a meal?"

"Sure," said Trip, downright tickled pink by Volok's clear and honest excitement over his rebuild of the Tek'Surron.


	56. Chapter 56

— **Chapter 56 —**

* * *

After spending two days at T'Lek Sor with Administrator Volok and the Vulcans he'd christened the Wolfpack during his last visit, Trip took Tek'Surron's Bridge in order to continue the ship's shakedown cruise. It was a proper test too, for the Tek'Surron flew to Alpha Centauri, then swung about and headed for Illitek, before finally turning round and heading for Vulcan, which made for a fourteen day cruise, all at Warp 7.6, during which the ship performed admirably, though tons of data would soon have to be sifted and Tek'Surron's performance evaluated thoroughly, just the same.

Stepping foot in Control just minutes after Tek'Surron was berthed, Trip noted that four dozen eyes fastened on him, though only Senva approached him.

"So, I see that you have tired of galavanting about the Federation, and finally returned to to your duties, Captain," said Senva. "About time I'd say."

Trip laughed at the Vulcan's words, for Senva had taken to purposefully baiting him as they'd gotten to know each other better.

"I am properly chastened, Senva," said Trip, pleased to see Senva again. "My office, please. Let's catch up on what I've missed during my pleasure cruise."

"Yes, Captain," said Senve. "Give me a few moments to grab my PADD unit."

Trip nodded and set course for his office, and as he passed Ayvok's station the two made eye contact and Trip murmured a greeting, while Ayvok nodded at the captain in return. Seconds later Trip passed T'Fel's station and raised brow at that Vulcan, to which T'Fel merely bit her lower lip while maintaining eye contact with Captain Tucker.

"So," said Trip, once he and Senva were seated in his office. "What's new?"

"The data from our second trial has been analyzed by the High Command," said Senva, "and this Deep Space concept has been firmed up. This shipyard has taken a hell of a pounding, which is not surprising given the size of our engines, and thus the strength of our shields. It would take a lot of firepower to bring our shields down, after which, of course, we'd be out of the game in short order."

Trip understood. Uzh Palik had never been designed as a combat platform, for if she'd been designed with that end in mind, the superstructure would have been greatly over-engineered, and the hull plating laid on much thicker. Still, getting past its shields would be a neat trick, given their strength.

"And the weapons data?"

"Quite impressive, Captain," said Senva, touching her PADD unit to Trip's computer, thus transferring the open file to the man's machine, "but that was expected."

Trip murmured in agreement with Senva's stated expectations. The station's engineers had installed 144 cannon batteries, each battery mounting five Andorian particle cannons, for a total of 720 particle cannons, as well as mounting 47 photon torpedo batteries, each battery launching one torpedo per second…

"The High Command was impressed, Admiral Ryan was impressed, and the Denobulan Admiral Miszlin was impressed," said Senva. "Expect future consultations on this Deep Space concept."

"Great," said Trip. "Anything else?"

"Nothing unexpected," said Senva. "What of Tek'Surron?"

"It's a great ship," said Trip. "We need to do some tweaking, but nothing major, and once those things are sorted out, we have a number of weapons drills to carry out."

Senva said, "In that case, we seem to be on track on all fronts, Captain."

"We are indeed, my fine feathered Vulcan," said Trip.

Another Vulcan might have said 'What?'to that fine feathered comment, but Senva had worked with the Human long enough to simply nod, privately amused at the little quips the man constantly threw into his conversation, quips which should have been annoying, but were not.

* * *

"Great job, Trip!" said Archer, looking down on Enterprise from a balcony with a good view of the ship: and she looked as good as new now, with both pylon and nacelle replaced.

"Jon's right," said Admiral Ryan, standing next to Archer. "That was fast work, given the size of the job."

"Thank you, sir. We've still got a bit of wiring to do," said Trip, "but she's good to go in two days."

"We could use Enterprise out there," said Ryan. "Those damned Romulans never stop prowling our shipping lanes. Two Romulan ships even made a try for the Mars shipyards three days ago, but it came to nothing because we swarmed the area with Delus ships looking for blood, so they pulled back and warped out."

"Half the crew is already back on board, and we're all looking forward to doing our part, Admiral," said Jon, pleased to be off desk duty and back in a captain's chair in a matter of days.

Ryan remembered something just then, and reached into his jacket's inside pocket.

"Here," said Ryan, holding out a PADD unit for Trip to take.

"Sir?"

"Latest iteration of the Constitution class ship we're developing," said Ryan. "Take a few weeks, study these plans at your leisure and let's have some feedback on any part of this project."

"Yes, sir," said Trip, pocketing the PADD unit.

"All right," said Ryan, "I'm heading back down to Vulcan. Jon, I appreciate the help you've given me. You're on your own now."

"Yes, sir," said Jon, glad to be spending tonight back on Enterprise: he looked at Trip. "Hey, dinner on Enterprise. My treat. Like the old days, Malcolm, Travis, Hoshi, you and I. The Heracles is in port, we'll get T'Pol to join us too. With the Romulans on the warpath, some of us may not be here this time next year, to do something like this again."

"All right," said Trip, for there was an odd feeling in the air…

He felt it, Jon clearly felt it too, but Trip wanted to put a name on the feeling… it took a few moments and then he had it. It was that odd feeling that came when one realized how fragile the web of life, how dependent on so many other things, and how easily severed that web, at which point came loss and death… and if the death was yours, well, that was a whole different ball game.

"Two hours from now, Trip," said Jon. "I'll give Chef a heads up."

"See you then," said Trip.

* * *

It was drone DT907, one of dozens of probes launched some twelve weeks earlier from the Vulcan cruisers which had breached the presumed borders of the Romulan Empire, which made a crucial discovery as it drifted silently through space.

This drone, as all others, was a dedicated intelligence gathering platform, gliding silently through space as it searched for signs of life out here, hopscotching through space with frequent bursts of warp flight towards new coordinates, followed by hours of drifting and scanning for comm frequencies, ship traffic, inhabited outposts or planets… and it was this particular drone which suddenly picked up a great deal of comm data, even as the large optical lenses mounted in the drone's nose took a series of images of the star field from which these signals emanated.

A short micro-burst sub-space transmission followed which sent all the drone's gathered data back to Vulcan, after which the drone set course for this anomaly, and after a 72 hour burst of speed at Warp 2, DT907 finally dropped out of warp just outside the system in question.

Two days later, that data reached Vulcan where a number of specialists analyzed the entire swath of data, quite intrigued by it, and hoping for more to come.

The drone's protocol was clear: as soon as it entered the system in question it would proceed along the edges of the system at 1/10th impulse speed, it's relatively low speed and harmless trajectory hopefully allowing it to escape notice, or at least be mistaken for a passing meteorite to any long distance scans, even as the drone kept sending high quality data back to Vulcan, during its 18.3 days/440 hour journey through the system. If detected and fired upon, the drone was programmed to instantly go best speed while taking evasive action, close with the target in question and capture and relay as much data as it could, before being destroyed.

But DT907 made it through the entire system without detection, and sent back a wealth of information in the process, along with much better images of the the Romulan system and its planets, which made it clear that the Federation had discovered the Romulan homeworlds, the larger ch'Rihan and its tidally locked sister planet ch'Rhiett, soon after nicknamed Romulus and Remus by StarFleet, and those names adopted by the other Federation species in view of the Human's first contact with the Romulans in that mine field, not all that long ago.

Eventually, DT907 faded into obscurity, for once it passed from the Romulan system it maintained its hunt for additional Romulan colonies, bases and outposts, only to eventually stop reporting for unknown reasons… but what it had already accomplished was more than enough.

What's more, other drones provided brief glimpses of a huge Romulan fleet assembling at Assandar before those drones were destroyed, and Assandar was a region of space which was worryingly close to the Alpha Quadrant… but that was expected, and it meant that invasion force was being assembled, which meant that whatever circumstances had kept the Romulan fleets at home 'till now had changed… and all out war was coming to the Federation. Soon, very soon.

* * *

R'Hienn, the Romulan Consul was at Assandar now, along with the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 7th, 8th and 10th fleets, which he intended to lead into the Alpha Quadrant, while leaving the 5th, 6th and 9th fleets behind to defend the empire from Reman rebellion, Federation counter attack, Orion trespass and most of all, Klingon treachery, with those three fleets were under Praetor He'vrek's command.

R'Hienn was broadcasting from the Bridge of the J'Vrett, R'Hienn's flag ship, and every officer, in every ship of the armada, was focused on the Consul now.

"…and so," said R'Hienn, summing up his previous orders, "ten days from now we proceed to Virinat, and set course for Regulus which we'll bypass in order to enter Syndicate space eight days later, where we pick up the Orions and Nausicaans. That's where we split up, with the 1st and 2nd making a wide detour around Vulcan space in order to reach Tellar and Denobula - the 1st will take Tellar, the 2nd will take Denobula.

"The 3rd, 4th, 7th and 8th will head directly for Vulcan, but the 8th will bypass Vulcan and continue onward to Earth. The 10th will take every Orion and Nausicaan ship available, against their hereditary enemy, Andoria.

"All in all we bring some 1,500 to 1,600 hundred ships against the Federation: 112 ships against Tellar, 130 against Denobula, 550 against Vulcan, 145 against Earth, and 190 of our ships, plus another 400 to 500 Orion and Nausicaan ships against Andoria.

"Our Vulcan, Andorian and Earth fleets will be able to reinforce each other to some degree along interior lines, given the relative proximity between these planets, and we'll either break their backs with the first strike, or else keep pouring on the pressure until they break."

R'Hienn looked at the Bridge video monitor which was sub-divided into ten sections, one for each fleet captain, for although every officer in the armada could view the Consul, only the fleet captains could address him.

"I'll field questions now," said R'Hienn.

"Consul," said Evtej, commanding the 1st, "since we're passing Regulus in force, why not conquer Regulus, as well as Risa, which is close enough to Regulus to make such a plan practical?"

"We will not be diverted from our target," said R'Hienn. "We can take Risa and Regulus any time after we break Vulcan and Andoria."

Evtej nodded, and Taillen, commanding the 10th spoke up.

"My fleet will take Andoria," said Taillen. "What then, Consul? You know that the Orions and the Nausicaans will want to loot Andoria, then burn it."

"They're dreaming," said the Consul. "Even I know that Andorian cities are built miles beneath the ice and stone. Bombardment from space won't affect those cities, which means the Orions and Nausicaans will have to go in and dig the Andorians out. Forget about it, Taillen. Even if they had the stomach for such work, which they don't, a few thousand Orions would make no headway against billions of armed Andorians. Still, encourage them to go down there and let the Andorians kill them off, but only after the Andorian fleets have been defeated."

Taillen nodded, then said, "Do we have firm numbers on the strength of the Andorian fleet?"

R'Hienn said, "The Andorians have 5 fleets, which they call Bands, each fleet comprised of eighty battle cruisers and a number of smaller supporting vessels. Which means you'll take 600, maybe 700 ships against their 400 hundred ships."

"Respectfully, Consul," said Taillen, 400 dedicated warships make a stronger force than my 190 warships, and 400 - 500 armed Orion and Nausicaan merchantmen."

"You don't have to win, Taillen," said the Consul. "Just bleed them in a series of running battles and skirmishes, let the Orions and Nausicaans take the brunt of the attacks. As soon as Vulcan is conquered, I'll send the 4th and the 7th to reinforce you, and crush the Andorians. What I want from you, Taillen, is merely to keep the Andorians occupied while I take Vulcan."

"Yes, Consul," said Taillen.

"Just remember, leave the Orions and Nausicaans to their fantasies of gain and vengeance, if it makes them fight," said the Consul. "If you should beat the Andorian fleets, see if their Emperor is willing to submit and accept an honorable status in our empire. Be persuasive, Taillen, for I've heard good things of the Andorians."

"And if he will not be persuaded, Consul?"

"Than quarantine the planet with your fleet," said R'Hienn. "Nothing leaves, or enters Andoria."

"And if the Andorians submit?"

"Then join forces with whatever is left of the Andorians, and wipe that criminal filth, the Orions & Nausicaans, out," said R'Hienn.

"Yes, Consul."

"What of Earth, Consul?" said Leasset, commanding the 8th.

"Send them back to their Stone Age," said R'Hienn. "Wipe out their orbital shipyards and their colony at Alpha Centauri, and nuke their cities from orbit. We'll decide the fate of that species at a later time."

"Yes, Consul," said Leasset.

No more questions seemed forthcoming, and so R'Hienn spoke again.

"As I've said, we wait here ten days further for the troop carriers to reach us," said R'Hienn.

499 troop carriers were joining the armada, and would be dispersed among the various fleets, but their numbers didn't truly count, for they had no space combat ability, though their ground troops would come in handy at enforcing order on the conquered planets.

"Attend to your duties until then," said R'Hienn, "for in ten days we commence operations against the Federation."

* * *

Orril Dav, the Syndicate's 'Admiral' stared across the table at Urg Braggen, his counterpart among the Nausicaans… in truth neither was an admiral, for leading hundreds of armed merchantmen and pirates was not the same as leading ships of war, but their illusions were harmless enough, and certainly each was willing to humor the other, for the two species were similar enough in culture and outlook, though the Nausicaans were fewer in numbers, and less successful in their piracy.

"So," said Braggen, "we finally get our chance to strike a blow against those damned Andorians, Orril. We'll kill them all!"

"Yes," said Orril.

"What's wrong?" said Braggen, pouring some Gron branswa in Orril's shotglass. "Surely the Syndicate will see a sizable increase in profits, without the constant losses incurred due to Andorian raids."

Orril shook his head in agreement, for the Syndicate had indeed noted a healthy increase in profits since their truce with the Andorians had been initiated.

"So what is it?" said Braggen, after taking a shot of liquor.

"I don't particularly trust the Romulans," said Orril.

"It's true, the things I've heard of them have not been particularly encouraging," said Braggen, for Nausicaan space was far from Romulan space, and the Nausicaans had been induced to join this campaign solely by the promise of looting and a chance to strike a blow against their hated foes, the Andorians, "but surely we'll all be better off with the Andorians dead and gone."

"That's true," said Orril, refilling their shot glasses. "The Syndicate obviously takes that view, so long as the Romulans are winning."

"Meaning?" said Braggen.

Orril debated keeping his mouth shut, but the Nausicaans were trusted allies.

"My orders are to aid the Romulans so long as their prospects shine bright," said Orril, "but my first priority is to maintain our fleet. If the Romulans can't close the deal, my ships and I are gone."

The Nausicaan gave a nasty grin, and said, "Funny. My orders were similar, Orril."

The two thugs gave each other a conspiratorial smile. Both species would shirk the bloody work as far as possible, and if necessary, they'd preserve their hides, rather than sacrifice themselves to fulfill Romulan ambitions… still, they'd have reconsidered that shared resolution if either of them had more experience with Romulans, for no other species held a grudge like the Romulans, and no other species repaid treachery as consistently and as viciously as the Romulans.


	57. Chapter 57

— **Chapter 57 —**

* * *

T'Fel sighed, and shifted her weight in an attempt to get comfortable, for although she generally slept like a baby when pressed against Trip's side, tonight was an exception. She rose slowly from the bed, careful not to wake Trip, slipped into a silk robe and then went downstairs, where T'Fel fixed herself a pot of hot tea. Pot and cup in hand, she then moved through the house, and walked outside to the seaward face of the bluff, where she sat in a small gazebo properly oriented in order to provide a wonderful view of the Voroth Sea. T'Fel was here to think, since she could not sleep.

With a sigh she got to the heart of the matter, and the thoughts which had troubled her frequently since finding out that Trip and T'Pol were Bonded… oh, she saw the way of it, the way it had all developed, but the question was how to handle it now? Logic dictated one of three courses.

One, do nothing and allow things to continue as they would, until the Romulan situation was resolved. Given the vagaries of war, any of them, or all of them could be killed in the coming conflict, which would resolve matters as a matter of course.

Two, ask Trip to sever his Bond with T'Pol, in order that he might be bound to her.

Three, she could step aside and make way for Trip and T'Pol to make the attempt at a true Bond. That would be hard to do, but it would be easier for her to make that gesture on behalf of them both, than T'Pol… such a thought was repugnant, for T'Fel was quite attached to Trip already, and she knew beyond doubt that she and Trip were t'hy'la, with everything that implied: deep lifelong friends, and in their case, also lovers with the strongest possible ties outside a Bond… but he could have more with T'Pol.

True, he could have that with her as well if he severed his previous connection, and perhaps a much better Bond than the one he shared with T'Pol, but that would devastate T'Pol for years, something which T'Fel found unpalatable, for as unconventional a Vulcan as she was, T'Fel still held a Vulcan's cultural reverence for the Bond. All that however, did not automatically mean that T'Fel was willing to give Trip up.

Nothing but hard choices, and T'Fel could not decide between the latter two courses of action… perhaps a death at Romulan hands would have to be the deciding factor, thought T'Fel.

Just then she felt Trip's arms wrap round her, felt his lips on the side of her neck, and T'Fel sighed… though logic suggested she give Trip up to his mate, that was the hardest thing to ask of her.

* * *

It was later that same day, while Trip was literally standing inside the warped chamber of a Denobulan engine and attempting to determine if this engine was worth saving, or needed replacing, that he was flooded by sensory input from T'Pol, and he knew that she stood on the Bridge of Heracles as that ship was under attack by a Romulans.

— Where are you? sent Trip through his end of the Bond to T'Pol. I'll come with Tek'Surron.

Psychic phenomena occurred instantly and the transmission of his thoughts was effortless, but a Bondmate's words demanded attention in the others mind, which affected T'Pol's reaction times aboard her ship,

— Not far off, relatively speaking, but this will all be over with, one way or another, long before you could reach us, sent T'Pol. I believe that we will make it. Now, I must go. I must be fully present here.

A mental nod from Trip to T'Pol, and a mental whisper of good luck, and with that Trip severed contact with T'Pol, in order to attend to his duty once more - that was not an easy thing to do, but it was necessary, for through intense focus he gained the mental detachment necessary to avoid thinking the worst of T'Pol's situation.

It was forty minutes before he sensed a brief mental touch from T'Pol, and its meaning was clear: all is well. With that sending, Trip relaxed and truly focused on his duties. Nine hours later, the four ship squad of which Heracles was a member, pulled in at Uzh Palik.

Of the four ships, Heracles and Circe had clearly suffered battle damage, and once the damaged ships had been assigned to pressurized slips, T'Pol exited Heracles to find Trip waiting for her outside, a grin on his face.

"What the hell did you do, T'Pol?" said Trip. "They just gave you this ship!"

"I know," said T'Pol, having the good grace to seem embarrassed, for the ship had truly been spotless the day it had been delivered in her care: now, it was visibly battered, the kitchen and Mess Hall vented to space, and only the fact that the attack occurred at 2AM by ship's time, at a time when the facilities were empty, had prevented deaths among the crew. "I know."

"So tell me about it?"

"A merchant convoy in our vicinity sent out an urgent plea for help, as they were under attack," said T'Pol. "The attack was real, but it was also a ruse. The Romulans didn't truly care about the cargo ships, for that attack was merely designed to lure us in. As intended, our squadron set course for the convoy at best speed, which lowered the efficiency of our scanners even as we rushed headlong towards a cloaked Bird of Prey, waiting patiently for our passage. As you can see, that ship unloaded with plasma torpedoes on both Heracles and Circe. It was an effective tactic, but if the Romulans had singled just one of us out instead, they'd have had a certain kill."

"They were just going for broke, trying to kill two ships at once, trying for something special for the ship's highlight reel," said Trip. "It's all a game with those bastards! Did you get him?"

"No," said T'Pol. "They traded weapon salvos with us for a bit, then warped away once it became clear that we'd blast their ship to hell if they stuck around too long. In view of the damage done Heracles and Circe, we let them go without pursuit."

"That's good enough for me," said Trip. "Now come on. As long as you're out of action, come with me. Your mom called earlier, asked if I wanted to come down for dinner. I forgot to call and cancel when I realized that you were in trouble, but since you're here I am sure that she'll want to see you too."

"I hope that you did not tell her that my ship was in trouble," said T'Pol, fearing a lecture from T'Les.

"I did not," said Trip. "I didn't want her to worry."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "Good. However, I will have to pass on dinner. I need to see to my crew."

"No need," said Trip. "We have a good system in place, and they'll all be shuttled down to Vulcan, or assigned quarters here, as they please. Don't worry about it. My crew's got it covered. Let's go, or I'll tell T'Les you were in a firefight."

"Very well," said T'Pol, not appreciative of being blackmailed, but seeing no way to slip the noose.

* * *

Although gasoline was a niche product these days, petroleum still had endless industrial applications, and although the price per barrel had fallen drastically, it was still a money maker. Better yet, so far as the Saudi Arabians were concerned, their government had seen the writing on the wall, and had willingly plowed their oil profits into twenty-one huge desalination plants which provided water all across the Arabian Peninsula, large parts of Eastern Africa, as well as parts of Afghanistan, Pakistan and even Iran, because Arabs had a long history as merchants, and business was business even between long time adversaries such as Iran and Saudi Arabia.

And it was these very same desalination plants which came under Romulan attack on this clear and chilly night in March, with nine of them destroyed outright by matter/anti-matter bombs, while the rest were badly damaged with conventional explosives, or their homemade variants… it would have been best to use matter/anti-matter bombs for them all, but the Imperial soldiers had run out of the specialized materials they'd brought with them initially - from now on, they'd have to improvise or steal their weapons of mass destruction. It was a good thing that Imperial soldiers were creative problem solvers.

And with that one stroke the Romulans plunged what was now a verdant and lush region, into a drought this region had not felt for a century, and the mass displacement of heavily populated cities was a nightmare, for there was no way to rebuild those desalination plants in less than a decade. For the Humans living in that region it was a logistical horror… for the Imperial soldiers it was just another day in service to the Star Empire.

* * *

"So," said T'les, pleased to have her daughter and Trip in her house at the same time - perhaps it was a sign of something good. "It is a treat to have you both here tonight."

"That's what I figured," said Trip, with a grin. "T'Pol tried to weasel out of it and she was spouting off about duty and such, so I had to resort to blackmail to bring her here tonight."

"I have tried blackmail in the past, to no avail," said T'Les, passing out bowls a cheese-broccoli-potato soup, to go with the basket of crusty bread. "It seems that you have hidden powers of persuasion, Captain Tucker."

Trip raised brow at that, for it seemed that T'Les saw him as a sinister figure with the powers of Svengali, and then said "If I wasn't enjoying this soup so much, I'd be offended, T'Les."

"But it's true," said T'Les. "T'Pol can be as stubborn as a Regulan mule, so I insist that you share your method of persuasion with me, Trip."

T'Pol had listened to all that silently, but now she spoke, and said, "Thank you both, for speaking of me as if I were not sitting here."

"Oh come, T'Pol," said T'Les. "I was bantering with the man. Let's not make a scene over the matter."

"I am not making a scene," said T'Pol, in a prim & proper tone, which still somehow managed to hint at passive-aggression.

"She's had a rough day, T'Les," said Trip, "and her feathers have been thoroughly ruffled."

"And once again, you are speaking as if I were not here," said T'Pol, looking archly at Trip. "Do neither of you see me?"

And that look made Trip laugh, for despite the fact that T'Pol looked as cool as a cucumber, he sensed she was a bit agitated and spoiling for an argument with T'Les. He'd have been able to recognize all that due to his intimate association with T'Pol and the ease with which he read her body language, but even without that insight, the Bond allowed Trip to sense T'Pol's emotions clearly.

"I'm sorry, T'Pol. We've been rude. We'll stop," said Trip, and surprisingly, that's all it took to calm her down, a fact which did not escape T'Les' notice.

T'Les thought of that fact while putting the next course together: the easy emotional connection Trip and T'Pol shared, the way she looked at him… if she'd seen that behavior between Vulcans she'd have rightfully deduced that the Vulcans in question were Bonded, but Trip was an alien. Surely that couldn't be the case here… what's more, if they were truly Bonded, the emotional distance between them would be impossible to maintain. Still, something odd was definitely going on here, and T'Les was more and more certain of that fact with each passing moment, as she discreetly watched the interaction between Trip & T'Pol with a new discernment.

In a matter of minutes, T'Les returned to the table with three plates, each plate piled high with a parsley, mint and tomato salad drizzled with a citrus & olive oil dressing, a richly spiced rice & lassa seed pilaf, some baked eggplant swimming in a dark klicci sauce, and a three inch thick slice of a pressed lentil & mushroom loaf, covered in a rich and savory brown sauce.

The conversation took on a lighter tone from there and the rest of the evening was pleasant enough as the three shared a peaceful meal, and when it was all done with, T'Pol drove Trip back to the shuttle port quite content with the course of the evening.

As for Trip, he returned to his office. Heracles and Circe would be thoroughly scanned during the course of the night, and a damage report generated in time for his morning coffee, but there was always work to be done here, and he had three or four hours to kill before hitting the mattress this night.


	58. Chapter 58

— **Chapter 58 —**

* * *

Trip was back in his office the next morning, when Senva reached out from Control.

"Yes, Senva."

"T'Pol is here, Captain," said Senva. "She asks to speak with you, if you can spare the time."

"Please send her in."

Moments later T'Pol entered Trip's office, and said, "Good morning."

"Morning, T'Pol," said Trip.

"I hope that I am not intruding," said T'Pol. "I was just curious about the state—"

"Way ahead of you," said Trip as he gestured towards the large wall mounted video monitor, which displayed the scans taken of Heracles the previous night. "Let's take a look at your ship, T'Pol."

They both stepped up to the monitor, where Trip began pointing out the damage taken during Heracles' firefight with the Romulans, and they discussed the extent of that damage for twenty minutes or so.

"…so as you see, T'Pol," said Trip, "the damage the Heracles suffered is extensive, but it's nowhere as severe as it could have been. I'm just glad the matter/anti-matter containment vessel didn't crack, given how close that plasma torpedo came to burning through it on the way out."

"Indeed," said T'Pol, for such a hit would have destroyed Heracles within minutes. "So what is your prognosis?"

"Ten to fourteen days to get your ship back in good order, and that's with a full crew of fifty engineers working the interior, while two more crews of fifty work the hull," said Trip. "I'll even take a hand in it."

"Oh?" said T'Pol.

"I'm going to upgrade your shield emitters to Denobulan emitters," said Trip. "They're the best. I would upgrade and replace your phaser batteries to Andorian particle cannons, but I imagine your Vulcan pride wouldn't allow that."

"It would not," said T'Pol. "The upgraded shield emitters will do."

"Fair enough," said Trip. "I'll also reinforce your ship's superstructure with some new metal alloy forms coming from Tellar. Your ship will look like a standard Delus class, but she'll be a tough little beast, more so than the norm."

"Very well," said T'Pol. "In any case, I wish to be of service in the rebuilding process."

"We have plenty of engineers," said Trip. "Go spend time with your mom, or just take some time off. Rest."

"I do not need rest. Since you say that you intend to work on my ship, I wish to do the same."

"Ok," said Trip, "I'll see you have a place in the task of rebuilding Heracles."

"Thank you," said T'Pol.

Trip walked to his desk, picked one of half dozen PADD units off his desk, and tapped the unit to his computer, transferring the open files dealing with Heracles, after which he slid that PADD unit towards T'Pol.

"Familiarize yourself with these files, and show up here tomorrow morning, ready to work," said Trip.

"I can start now," said T'Pol, "and I can be of some assistance to you even today."

"I won't be here, T'Pol," said Trip. "I split my time somewhat unevenly between Uzh Palik and Tek'Surron, and the rest of the day, I'm taking Tek'Surron out for some target practice."

"May I be of assistance there?"

"No. You're not part of the crew, T'Pol, and they're the ones that have to master their duties. Anyway, I'll be back this evening, and I'll take a look at the Heracles."

"Very well," said T'Pol, pocketing the PADD unit. "I will go to one of Uzh Palik's lounges until you return, and study the specs of the Denobulan equipment you mean to install on my ship."

"Suit yourself," said Trip. "Hit the Mess Hall if you're hungry, or ask Senva for a room, if you need some sleep. I'll see you when I get back, T'Pol."

"Right."

* * *

The Orion Orril Dav, the 'Admiral' of the Orion fleet, was sharing a meal with his counterpart among the Nausicaans, Urg Braggen, for the two had arrived at the rendezvous point ahead of the date given for the Romulan arrival, and were gathering their respective fleets here. It seemed a more efficient way to muster their ships, than meeting elsewhere and then coming here, and they were far outside normal Andorian patrol routes. Still, had the Romulans known the plans of these two buffoons they'd have executed them on the spot, for a gathering of ships so close to Federation space could mean but one thing, if they were spotted, and yet these two miscreants were congratulating themselves on their efficiency.

But Orril and Braggen were not the only ones capable of efficiency, for Andorian scouts ranged far and wide these days, and these scouts took notice of the gathering horde and sent warning back to Andoria. Aethon, the Andorian Emperor had done his stint in the Guards and so he recognized an opportunity when he saw one, and immediately dispatched the 3rd and 5th Bands on an approach vector just outside the Orion's sensor range, while a half dozen Andorian ships approached the Orions directly. Although the Nausicaan and Orion fleets were but half mustered, some two hundred-fifty ships were already gathered, more than enough ships to be unconcerned over the approach of six Andorian cruisers.

"Leave it to me," said Oriil, the Orion. "We have a neutrality agreement in place with the Andorians in exchange for information. I'll tell them we're sorting out some matters between ourselves, and that should fly, for nothing would please those blue-skinned bastards more than the thought of us killing each other."

"How sure are you they'll honor that neutrality agreement?" said the Nausicaan.

"Pretty sure," said Orril, for in truth, Andorians were too unpredictable to allow Orril to give a stronger assurance. "Our agreement has been in place for months, and they've stuck to it. Anyway, six Andorian ships present no difficulty. If we have to, we'll blow them to hell. Their arrogance is about to come to an end anyway."

Braggen nodded, and said, "All right. Deal with them as you will, though I say we just kill them all, and then fall back. We regroup five lightyears to the rear, at Akkabrat."

"Sounds about right," said Orril, though the Orion hoped to talk his way out of this encounter: even six Andorian combat-cruisers could take out a few dozen Orion ships before they were taken out in turn, and Orril had some friends here. "It's a plan."

It was indeed a plan, but it didn't unfold exactly as expected, for by the time Orion and Nausicaan sensors picked up the 3rd & 5th Bands approaching them from beneath at best speed, it was too late to do anything about the matter, as genuine ships of war could easily rundown armed merchantmen… and the presence of the 3rd and 5th changed everything, for although the Orions & Nausicaans could have destroyed the six initial Andorian cruisers, they had no prayer of overcoming the 160 ships of the two Bands. They would have to bluff their way out of this situation... but in order to bluff, you must have a party willing to negotiate or at least listen, and the Andorians were unwilling to do so. They began blasting the packed ranks of Orions & Nausicaans the moment they dropped out of warp.

Let no one say that either Orions, or Nausicaans, lack a self-preservation instinct. Almost as one, they scattered to the solar winds, even as the Andorians tore into them like falcons tearing into doves. At the end of that first hour, this half of the planned Orion & Nausicaan fleets scattered, never to return, no matter the promises they'd made the Romulans, for both species had an almost pathological fear of Andorians… in any case, these Orions & Nausicaans had bigger problems to deal with at the moment, as they struggled merely to live another day, and only the fact that the Emperor had forbidden the Bands to pursue their foes past the first hour allowed some eighty ships to slip away, high tailing it for home. More Nausicaans and Orions would eventually meet the Romulan fleet, but none of these, and thus the pirate fleet had been halved in an hour, due to Aethon's canny decision to strike the first blow.

* * *

The message which arrived to Vulcan from Andoria, of gathering Orion and Nausicaan fleets, fit the intelligence gathered by the Vulcan probes, and all indications were that the attack was coming, in a matter of days, or weeks at most, and preparations were being made all across the Federation, for the life and death struggle which was surely coming soon.

On Vulcan, civilians logically stocked up on food and water for if the Romulans slipped through Vulcan defenses things would get bad… very bad. As the civilians did their part, the Vulcan Navy did it's part, planning for the defense of their people, and controlled though the Vulcans were, one could cut the tension with a knife.

Meanwhile, preparations on Earth, Tellar and Denobula followed much the same pattern as on Vulcan, even as their military branches planned for all possible scenarios, hoping to be able to support each other as needed, though there was great uncertainty in the air, for no one had seen Romulans conduct open warfare, and given the efficiency and brutality which they'd demonstrated so far, victory against the Romulans was far from certain.

Andoria was something of a different situation, for life on Andoria had evolved miles beneath the ice and brutal winds, and so the Andorian cities were buried beneath miles of ice and stone, and so, unlike the other Federation planets they were not truly vulnerable to attack from space… even atomic weapons could only do so much, and Andorians could merely move closer to the the planet's core, and further from the surface if needed.

So Andoria would be a tough nut to crack, and even if the entirety of the Andorian fleet was lost, Andoria itself was safe, for if the Romulans truly meant to conquer Andoria, they'd have to go beneath the ice and stone to root the Andorians out. That was a nightmare scenario for the Romulans, given that every male Andorian male had done his time in the armed forces due to a mandatory three year period of military service, and given that Andorians were armed to the teeth and defending terrain with which they were intimately familiar. And than there was Andorian morale, which easily matched Romulan. Moreso, it was a matter of numbers. The Romulan military numbered a bit more than 117 million troopers - the male half of the Andorian population numbered at four billion. The Romulans were many things, but they weren't fools, and if Andoria refused to surrender, she would remain the only Federation world still free and unconquered, though she'd be watched and blockaded by Romulan fleets so long as she held out. Forget about it... Andoria was a nightmare for a conquering force.

* * *

The hours of weapons drills for Tek'Surron went well, and at the end of it Trip returned to Uzh Palik, where he ate a light dinner with Senva, discussing shipyard business, after which he paged T'Pol, calling her to the Heracles' slip.

"Hi, T'Pol," said Trip, pointing out the engineers swarming the hull. "My men have already begun working on the Heracles, both inside and out, and they know what they're doing, so let's go over the inventory, see that we have the requisite number of Denobulan shield emitters and the couplings we'll need, and then we'll go to the Heracles' Bridge - we need to reprogram the core, tweak the power throughput sub-routines, in order to accommodate those new emitters. It will all take hours to accomplish."

"Understood," said T'Pol. "I am ready to work."

And T'Pol was as good as her word, for although the work was somewhat tedious, the Vulcan enjoyed working alongside her mate… here and now, working together on a shared project, it felt almost as if they were back on Enterprise before that entire debacle had taken place, and T'Pol treasured the feeling which this night engendered. Still, all good things come to an end eventually, and five hours later Trip was done for the day.

"Good work, T'Pol," said Trip as he stood and stretched. "Leave the rest of that programming job for tomorrow."

"We could finish it tonight," said T'Pol, hopeful that she could coax the man to work a bit longer.

"No, I'm done. I have a big day tomorrow, and I need to relax for a few hours before I go to sleep," said Trip.

"Would you like to hit that pub aboard this station, of which I've heard so much about?" said T'Pol.

"Not tonight, T'Pol," said Trip, "I have something to attend to."

Something within T'Pol tightened at Trip's words for she had no doubt that the 'something to attend to' was T'Fel. Now if Trip had been a Vulcan, T'Pol would have already challenged T'Fel to kal-if-fee for trespassing on her mate… but although Trip could be annoyingly unpredictable in general, T'Pol had no doubts at all that Trip would either intervene to prevent such contest from occurring in the first place, or failing that, were T'Fel killed, he'd never deal with his mate again, and it was solely that fear which had stilled T'Pol's urge for a violent and final solution to her current predicament so far.

As for Trip, he felt a pang of strong jealousy coming through the Bond for apparently T'Pol had sensed, or simply guessed, his plans for the evening, and to Trip such jealousy seemed badly misplaced: she'd shared herself freely with Reed and Archer while bedding him, so why get jealous now?

T'Pol felt the man's casual dismissal of her feelings, and the thoughts she felt running through his mind were irritating T'Pol, more so for the fact that these thoughts were completely on point, for he was rushing to the arms of his lover with nary a thought for his mate… just as she'd done to him.

We were not aware that we were mated at that time, thought T'Pol. That was different!

A small voice within T'Pol said: "Was it different? Truly?"

T'Pol had no answer to those questions, but that small voice from within chose to pipe in once more, and inconveniently so as T'Pol saw things, for that voice whispered with some authority: "When you bedded Tucker, in concert with Reed and Archer, Trip already viewed you as his mate, or at the very least, a potential mate. Your feelings of hurt, rejection and betrayal, are but an equal measure of those same feelings, which you visited upon Trip by your dalliance with Reed and Archer. Fair is fair, T'Pol."

That small voice of conscience was not what T'Pol wished to hear at the moment, and so she squashed it ruthlessly.

"Very well," said T'Pol, all business now, her eyes as cold as ice. "Until tomorrow, Captain Tucker."

"Right," said Trip. "See you."

With that Trip headed for his quarters, showered, changed clothes and headed for T'Fel's cabin. They'd each added the other to their cabin's security exemptions, so Trip stepped inside after briefly touching his thumb to the print reader. The shower was running, and though he'd just showered earlier, Trip slipped out of his clothes once again, and into the shower with T'Fel. She raised her head when the shower stall door opened and then she rushed him, for she'd been pleasuring herself when he'd joined her in the steamy enclosure.

"I see that I arrived just in time to lend a hand," said Trip, with a grin, for the sight of T'Fel panting, eyes closed, hand working feverishly, was a bracing sight.

"That you did," said T'Fel, leaning her back against the wall tiles, while pressing down on Trip's shoulders. "Now, less talk, more action, Captain Tucker."

A long and pleasurable shower was followed by a period of small talk and laughter, and then another another feverish tussle on the bed, after which Trip spooned T'Fel and promptly fell asleep, for he had to be up in five hours, but sleep eluded T'Fel even now… she'd seen T'Pol around Uzh Palik the past two days, and that woman did not look good these days, and T'Fel would hazard a guess that T'Pol's current tension with her mate had much to do with that fact.

Not really surprising, for if Trip had interpreted things correctly, and T'Fel saw no way that the man might be mistaken about things, a spontaneous Bond had sprung up between he and T'Pol at some point in time… and that was a wondrously rare thing. In her entire life, T'Fel had heard of only two similar cases. Normally, such a thing would be considered a wonderful omen, a blessing on a Bonded union, but what to make of this mess?

Something will have to give, thought T'Fel. This foolish plan of theirs, to put matters off 'till the end of the war is unworkable. I must take a hand in this matter, soon, for everyone's good.


	59. Chapter 59

— **Chapter 59 —**

* * *

Even as T'Fel wrestled with insomnia in Trip's embrace, T'Pol fought with her own bout of sleeplessness in Uzh Palik's gym, for the frustration she felt now was aggravating, and that in itself was cause for concern, for she was not dealing with a topical feeling, one easily dispelled by logic and meditation… no, this was a deeper feeling and a bone deep frustration at the situation in which she found herself now, sharing her mate with another, and T'Pol feared that this feeling was becoming more than just a temporary concern.

True, the pon'farr had passed and no longer threatened her life, but the actuality of a Bond essentially denied was not without its own cost, and T'Pol had long since spiraled into a funk, and soon afterward had spiraled from the funk into something of a depression. Still, logic raised a feeble protest that wallowing in such a state solved nothing, but that did nothing for T'Pol this night, and so she was here, in Uzh Palik's gym, beating the shit out of a heavy bag anchored to floor and ceiling.

The huge gym was empty at this time, save for a half dozen Vulcans lost somewhere among all the exercise equipment, and T'Pol felt uninhibited enough to really work that bag with a wide variety of kicks, knee strikes, elbow strikes, punches and body slams. It felt good too, for a time at least, the rush of power, the simplicity of physical exertion without the mind's unnecessary intrusion, but eventually T'Pol tired and ended the workout, and with the cessation of her physical exertion, her forlorn feelings of depression returned with undue haste, a fact which was in itself depressing. She'd never been the life of the party, but now…

Ugh, I wish a Romulan would just put me out of my misery, thought T'Pol, and then chuckled weakly at her own dark musings.

* * *

At just about the same time, having received Andorian reports of the dispersal of a joint Orion and Nausicaan fleet some eighteen hours earlier, nine Vulcan cruisers launched 121 probes along all possible Romulan approach vectors from the Beta Quadrant, and once these probes were in position they essentially went dark, engines powering up only sporadically and working at a mere fraction of their capacity in order to quickly recharge the batteries which powered scanners, imaging apparatus and communications equipment. With these probes in place, it might be that the Romulans and their allies would come in force into Federation space, but the Federation would not be caught unawares.

Even now, each member planet of the Federation had recalled their civilian ships home or suggested that these ships shelter in place on the closest Federation planet, and although interstellar trade still continued to some extent between Tellar, Denobula and Earth, the cargo ship crews were running a grave risk, for the entirety of Federation space could turn into a battle zone in the blink of an eye, and only the exorbitant profits to be made in running scare goods at this particular time repaid the merchant crews for running such risks… and all across the Federation a seeming hush fell, in anticipation of the Romulan advance.

* * *

Early next morning, Trip woke and headed for his office, where he had his coffee and breakfast with Senva, shuffled some papers, made some decisions which needed his approval, then headed for slip #109, where Heracles was berthed. He'd already selected three engineering crews for the job and given them their marching orders, and their first order of business was cutting away the twisted and burned metal, which was far beyond salvage.

Just then T'Pol approached Trip, and said, "Good morning."

"Morning, T'Pol," said Trip. "How'd you sleep?"

"Well enough," said T'Pol, lying through her teeth. "Now I am ready to work."

"Great," said Trip. "Set your PADD unit to RECORD, and let's walk the ship, take an overview. No matter how good the scans, they always miss things."

"As you say," said T'Pol, setting her PADD on RECORD, and with that they were off to the races.

Trouble was, this Bond they shared dispelled T'Pol's habitual mask of equanimity, for Trip felt the Vulcan's misery had intensified lately, and worse, T'Pol knew that Trip felt it. A part of T'Pol wanted to run, to hide, in order to deny the man that glimpse into her currently debased mental state, but instead she merely lowered her eyes to his chest for a bit, and then eventually, the stubborn part of T'Pol's nature compelled her to stand in place, baring her pain before her mate, and so she raised her eyes to his, and what moved between them was too complicated for words, and then T'Pol lowered her head and averted her eyes, for the quiet intensity of the man's gaze was overpowering her now. As for Trip, he sighed and lowered his head a bit, gently touching hers, in something of a commiseration with the Vulcan.

"You sure you want to be here?" said Trip, pulling back to study T'Pol. "You could use some rest, and meditation."

"I am fine," said T'Pol, recalling herself and standing straight, for she heard some Vulcan voices drawing closer. "We have things to do."

"Ok," said Trip, looking round him as some engineers entered the compartment and began tearing into a number of the boxes. "Let's continue."

* * *

The Romulan armada departed Assandar now, at Warp 5, on a course for Virinat which was an 80 hour flight. Virinat was the last planet within the borders of the Romulan Star Empire, and once past Virinat it was a four day flight to Regulus, and from Regulus, another eight days to reach Syndicate space, and from Syndicate space, another six days to reach the Vulcan system.

During the entirety of this 21 day flight, the armada would be preceded and flanked at a great distance by a grand flight of cloaked Birds of Prey with but one function: to destroy any ships which might spot the armada on their scanners, and spread word of this armada, possibly even as far Federation space. That's not to say that the Romulans truly expected to achieve tactical surprise, for they'd found and destroyed a number of Vulcan probes already, but still, one played things out for every percentage point in an undertaking as serious as war.

* * *

The day went well for T'Pol as it progressed, no matter that the tasks at hand were repetitive, for it was good to be working closely with her mate once more, as they'd done once done quite frequently before that entire episode with… well, before all that. He enjoyed their closeness as well, she felt it clearly through the Bond, and that thought was exhilarating… she'd felt flashes of this goodwill and affection before, but now his affection for her seemed as steady as the sun, and T'Pol could not help but stare at her mate as she sifted delicately through the input from his end of the Bond.

Unfortunately, thought T'Pol, there's a bottomless Abyss between affection and desire, and a feeling of friendship is not truly enough for me, not coming from my mate… yet he may, one day, feel more.

Trip gave the Vulcan a smile, and said, "We don't have time to stare deeply into each other's eyes, T'Pol."

"We do not," said T'Pol, though her gaze never wavered.

Trip noted that fact as well, and said, "Forget about it. It will all be over soon, T'Pol. Given what we've seen of the Romulans, we'll probably all die in the battle for Vulcan, or Earth."

"I suspect that you are right, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, "but even so, I would prefer to meet my end with my mate by my side, metaphorically speaking."

"T'Pol, listen… it's complicated."

T'Pol leaned in just then, and placed a kiss on Trip's lips. The man was clearly startled by her actions, though his pleasure rippled through the Bond, and so T'Pol said, "It is not truly that complicated, Captain Tucker. You just have to forgive me."

"Are you proposing that you and T'Fel, should share me? Because I could get with that program," said Trip with a smile meant to diffuse the situation.

Instead, a wave of jealousy came off T'Pol, followed quickly by the spiky feel of anger, and Trip suspected that T'Pol was about to clam up and shut herself off from him in anger, but just then his comm unit buzzed.

"Yes," said Trip.

"You are needed in Control, Captain," said Senva from the Bridge.

"On my way, Senva," said Trip, and then he looked at T'Pol. "Keep on with the inventory, please. I'll return as soon as possible."

"Understood," said T'Pol.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the planet below, Soval looked at the latest directives from the High Command and sighed, for he was directed to prepare for two eventualities: the first eventuality, to be acted upon in case of a Federation victory against the Romulan fleets, was an offer of peace and an earnest plea for an amiable association between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire.

The other eventuality for which Soval was directed to prepare, was defeat… the Romulans were clearly on the move now, or would be soon enough, and the High Command had considered all possibilities, and had apparently pared them down to just these two branches, with one of them to soon be revealed as the eventual outcome of the coming clash.

Defeat, thought Soval, bitter at the thought… the High Command is planning for defeat, possibly even expecting it.

That thought was a cruel one, and although Soval was seasoned after a lifetime of discipline and the practice of his diplomatic art, his hands shook as he read his directives once more, for if the Romulans should win Soval was certain that Vulcan, as he knew it, would be destroyed in one way or another.

* * *

"What's wrong?" said T'Fel, touching Trip's forearm.

They were in the Captain's Mess aboard Uzh Palik: they'd already eaten, the table had been cleared, tea and coffee had been served, and they had privacy now.

"Just a long day, and a longer night," said Trip. "I'm taking Tek'Surron out for targeting drills tonight."

"Can't you put that off?" said T'Fel. "You need your rest."

"You know that things are about to pop off, T'Fel," said Trip. "It's not something I can delay, in good conscience."

T'Fel sighed and nodded, seeming pensive.

"What's wrong?" said Trip in his turn.

"Can you request reassignment to Earth?" said T'Fel.

"Why?" said Trip.

"I do not want you here when the Romulans arrive, Trip," said T'Fel. "The battle will be cruelest here. We Vulcans are not your people and I do not want you dying here for us. I want you to have a chance, and barring that, it's right that you should fall defending Earth, if it comes to that."

Trip shook his head, and said, "Here or there, it makes no difference. There's no other place I'd rather be, T'Fel, and if it's the end, it's the end."

"But, Trip, listen—"

Trip leaned in and stole a kiss from T'Fel, then said, "I don't want to listen, and I won't think of you facing that horror alone. Now, I have six hours before I board Tek'Surron and I want to get a bit of sleep. You want to come, snuggle with me? I always sleep better with you in my arms."

T'Fel said nothing, wrestling with her frustration… the man was too stubborn for his own good, and now she knew he'd make his stand here, and nothing she could possibly say would sway him from his path.

"T'Fel?" said Trip. "A catnap?"

"Yes, Trip," said T'Fel. "I would like that."

With that, the two made their way to her quarters and then into a hot shower, after which they slept for five hours or so. When the alarm clock sounded, Trip stirred, and T'Fel awoke.

"I have to get dressed," said Trip, pulling back from T'Fel's embrace.

T'Fel gave a very slight lopsided grin, and something in her eyes communicated the grin's meaning to Trip.

"I don't have time," said Trip.

T'Fel kissed Trip's chin, and said, "Profal.", which meant 'please'.

"I can only give you five minutes before I have to start getting dressed, T'Fel," said Trip. "Fair warning."

"Five minutes?" said T'Fel. "That is 2.1 times longer than the amount of time you usually sport with me. You are positively spoiling me today, Captain Tucker!"

"You bitch!" said Trip with a laugh, for T'Fel had just neatly stuck a shiv in his back with her lies: and they WERE lies!

Just then T'Fel flipped Trip onto his back with a firmness which would have been unexpected, were it not for the strength of her species.

"Less talk, more action. We have no time to waste, Captain Tucker," said T'Fel, gently impaling herself upon Trip's length, and then the Vulcan began grinding herself upon the man with a gratifying intensity.


	60. Chapter 60

— **Chapter 60 —**

* * *

The Reeking Regatta, so nicknamed due to the sheer depravity of the activities in which the regatta's participants indulged as a matter of course, was a regularly scheduled event which saw ships from Laurentis, Regulus, Risa, Kassae and Vega all set course for the star system which housed the Arucanis Arm, which put on a wonderful display of color once every thirty Regulan months. The bloom of those celestial lights was considered a joyous occasion and it drew hundreds of ships to witness the ten day event, and among this year's attendees were forty-two passenger liners, some two hundred yachts of various sizes, and another fifty-seven merchant ships which offered exotic high end luxury foods and liquors, assorted drugs of various potencies, and a few dozen Orion slave girls offered for sale to the highest bidder, the auction of which always drew a high number of viewers… and then of course there were the endless orgies, the drug induced bliss, the purposeful exploration of a bevy of extreme fetishes best left unmentioned in polite company, and such things took place throughout the entire duration of this cruise.

But it was unfortunate for these people that this year's regatta crossed paths with some of the cloaked Romulan ships tasked to clear the armada's path to Vulcan, and these Romulans tailed this civilian fleet for six hours, while awaiting reinforcement from others of their kind, for although none of these civilian ships were armed, none could be allowed to escape the kill-zone and spread stories of the armada's passage.

The first hint of trouble for the regatta's participants came when ship to ship communications were disrupted by Romulan jamming technology. It was dismissed as a spatial anomaly by the various ship captains of the regatta… and just minutes later, the Romulan massacre began with a frightening brutality, as salvo after salvo of plasma torpedoes and disruptor fire lanced into this doomed fleet with a ruthlessness which was typically Romulan, and a ruthlessness which spared none in the process, not even the Orion merchant ships. Worse yet, none of these people would be missed for at least another forty days or so, more than enough time for the Romulan armada to traverse this area undetected… or rather, almost undetected.

Four Vulcan drones recorded the event at long range, and although the images sent back to Vulcan were too small for the eye to see unaided, computers made short work of that problem, thus revealing the fate of the Reeking Regatta.

* * *

"You look tired, T'Pol, positively exhausted," said T'Les, setting a pot of tea and two cups on the patio table in the small backyard which still managed to provide a decent view of the FirePlains. "I can tell that you are not sleeping enough."

"I have been quite busy, mother," said T'Pol, though in truth her insomnia was largely caused by the wear and tear on her psyche, brought about by her difficulties with her mate.

T'Les studied her daughter as she slid a small tea cup towards T'Pol, and said, "It seems that the High Command has given up hope for a negotiated solution with the Romulans."

"There was never any chance for a negotiated solution, mother. The Romulans are coming to conquer, not negotiate."

T'Les sighed, and sipped her tea quietly for a while, then said, "I worry for you, T'Pol."

"I worry for Vulcan, mother," said T'Pol.

T'Les said, "If something happens to you, T'Pol, I just want you to know that although I am terrified for you, I love you, and I am proud of you."

"I know, mother," said T'Pol, draining her small tea cup, then refilling her mother's cup, and then her own. "I love you too."

They sat in silence for a bit, until they finished off the small pot of tea.

"Would you run to the market for me, T'Pol?" said T'Les. "The shopping list is next to my vehicle keys, and I need to begin prepping for dinner."

"Certainly," said T'Pol.

"Should I invite Trip to join us, or would you rather have some peace and quiet tonight?" said T'Les.

"Yes. Invite him," said T'Pol, and left it at that.

* * *

The Klingon High Council was in session when one of Councilor Molor's men walked up to Molor, and whispered in his ear. Such things were not usually done when the High Council was in session, and his fellow councilors knew that something of significance demanded that breach of protocol, but it would have been rude to question Molor on the topic, as it might well be a personal matter… and then Molor laughed loudly, overtly interrupting the council meeting.

"Apologies, brothers," said Molor, "but I have good news! The Romulan armada has left Romulan space. Our time to strike comes soon!"

There were murmurs of approval all around, for most councilors had come around to Molor's point of view, once the decision to take advantage of the situation had been voted upon, and the resolution approved.

"Cheer up, Kargan," said Molor, noting that Klingon's sour look, for Kargan still held to his view that this plan to attack the Star Empire was an act of greed, and sheer stupidity. "We'll roll up the Romulan Empire into our own, in a matter of weeks."

"I hope you're right, Molor. I really do," said Kargan, "for if this thing blows up in our faces, there will be many who will hold you responsible."

"We all voted on the issue, Kargan," said Krell, although Krell had also been against this venture initially. "Let it rest."

"As you say, Krell," said Kargan.

And with that news, every other matter on the docket was swept aside as insignificant, and the entire focus of the High Council shifted over to reviewing the preparations for war with the Romulan Star Empire… all that needed doing now, was for the Romulans to engage the Federation in armed conflict, and embroil their armada in that sector of space.

* * *

After a pleasant dinner and a few hours of social interaction with her daughter and Trip, T'Les turned in for the night, but not until she'd given the man a hug, and despite the fact that T'Les was dry eyed, the Vulcan feared that this might be the last time she would see Trip, or T'Pol, or perhaps both… and that thought pained her heart. Still, reason dictated that going out of her way to anticipate pain was illogical, so T'Les meditated an extra twenty minutes this night in order to still her mind, and then she tried for sleep.

"I should go," said Trip, "but the view's so damned beautiful."

He and T'Pol had stepped out into the backyard after T'Les had turned in, in order to view the lava flow on the FirePlains at night.

"It is a lovely view," said T'Pol. "Stay a while longer, Trip."

Trip murmured his agreement, and the two shared the view, and a comfortable silence for twenty minutes more, while sipping coffee, and then T'Pol spoke.

"You have let go of your resentment for me," said T'Pol. "I mean you'd let go of most of it while on the Columbia, but now there's no trace of it."

"To hold on to resentment on the eve of battle is 'illogical', T'Pol," said Trip, sparing a grin for T'Pol.

"Indeed," said T'Pol.

"Anything new on the Romulan fleets?"

"Yes," said T'Pol. "Our probes have reported that the Romulan armada has left the Star Empire, and within two days will pass far north of Regulus. At their current speed and heading they will reach Vulcan space in 16.2 days."

"Mmmm," said Trip.

"Have you spoken with your family?"

"Yeah, a few days ago," said Trip. "I'll call them again in the next two weeks, not that it makes much difference. If we can't hold them here, they'll burn Earth too."

"They will still want to hear from you, Trip."

Trip nodded, but said nothing.

"How much longer before Heracles is fit for duty?" said T'Pol.

"Four days, T'Pol."

Another period of silence followed, and then T'Pol spoke once more.

"Our workload will increase with each day that passes, until the Romulans hit us," said T'Pol, "so in case we have no further chance to spend time privately, I would like you to know that I am deeply grateful for the time we have had together."

"As am I, T'Pol. We've had some good times in the past two years, haven't we?"

T'Pol nodded in agreement, and said, "As for the events which divided us, I will apolog—"

"T'Pol, forget about that," said Trip, then looked at his watch. "That's all done with now. Truly."

"Very well," said T'Pol and excused herself to make use of the restroom.

Minutes later she returned, and Trip spoke.

"I have to go, T'Pol. I had a great time tonight."

"Let me get my shoes," said T'Pol, "and I will drive you to the shuttle port."

"Don't worry about it," said Trip. "I called a hire car."

"There was no need for that, Trip. I would have been glad to drive you."

"T'Les can't sleep," said Trip. "I saw her heading for the kitchen a few minutes ago. Stay here, keep your mom company, T'Pol. She's struggling with what's coming soon."

"All right," said T'Pol, as the man stood, and stretched.

Moments later, Trip exchanged a few more words with T'Les, planted a kiss on her cheek, then said, "If I don't see you again, take care old girl."

T'Les merely nodded, rendered speechless, for she understood Trip's meaning and she found the thought of Trip's death in defense of Vulcan an extremely distressing one… moments later Trip was gone from her house, possibly for the last time.

* * *

T'Fel entered Trip's house in Ralla province, for he'd included her in the property's security exemptions, and given that the patio doors were open, and the video monitor was displaying the latest reports on the Vulcan newsnets, T'Fel knew that Trip was already here. Walking out the patio doors and heading for the bluff, she noticed movement on Trip's power cruiser, and noted the running lights aboard the boat. Made sense, he loved that boat, and he loved the sea. Flitting gracefully down the stairs and through the sand, T'Fel soon reached the pier, and eventually the boat.

"T'Fel," said Trip, calling from the boat's stern. "Back here."

T'Fel saw Trip, and headed to the back of the boat, noting a barefoot and bare chested Trip, wearing his favorite pair of faded jeans.

"Hello," said T'Fel.

"How was your night?" said Trip.

"It was fine," said T'Fel, for she'd gone to see her parents and her younger sister this evening. "I am glad that I went, even though Lisset was being purposely annoying this evening."

Trip murmured a few words of commiseration with T'Fel, and then they spoke of T'Fel's family for a bit before T'Fel purposely changed topics, for despite being Bonded, her parents had a difficult marriage, which was not unheard of: being privy to another's thoughts through the Bond was not necessarily an ironclad recipe for happiness.

"You want to go for a ride? I'll let you steer."

"Yes," said T'Fel. "I would like that, Trip."

Ten minutes later they were barreling through the Voroth Sea, with the Vulcan steering the boat from the flying bridge, her hair whipping in the breeze as Trip watched her fondly, and occasionally gave her some instruction in the art of handling the boat.

The two hour boat ride was followed by a half hour in the sauna, during which Trip began chuckling.

"What?" said T'Fel.

"I never thought I'd be purposely seeking out additional heat, and taking a sauna on Vulcan," said Trip, but to be fair, the large body of water moderated Vulcan's heat quite adequately, especially after sunset.

"You are becoming a real Vulcan, Trip," said T'Fel, "and for us, it's never hot enough. In fact, we should be drinking hot tea right now, in the sauna."

Trip nodded sagely at that declaration, and then T'Fel said, "And speaking of heat, have you and T'Pol locked lips again? Or did you make out with T'Les tonight?"

Trip smiled at that ludicrous thought.

He'd told T'Fel about the kiss T'Pol had sprung on him, and T'Fel had simply said, "It is clear that she wants you, Trip. This foolishness of waiting in limbo to decide matters, perhaps for years, is illogical."

"T'Pol didn't think it illogical to wait," had said Trip at the time, to which T'Fel had replied, "T'Pol is desperately trying to hang on to her mate, Trip. Her logic is flawed on this issue."

"So," said T'Fel, back in the present. "Tell me. Did you and mama T'Les kiss? Or did you Bond that poor woman as well?"

Trip laughed at that scandalous thought, so much so that he began coughing helplessly, while T'Fel merely watched him struggle to breathe with an amused air of satisfaction about her. It took Trip literally five minutes to regain control.

"You're a wicked one, T'Fel. I could have died laughing!"

T'Fel stood and came to sit on Trip's lap, then said, "In that case I should stand close by, to render CPR assistance."


	61. Chapter 61

— **Chapter 61 —**

* * *

The next day was a grind and Trip drove everyone hard, including himself. Still, there were no complaints over that fact, for everyone was aware of the hard deadline looming ahead of them all.

The tension among the Vulcans was palpable, though they hid it better than the aliens serving aboard Uzh Palik, but Trip understood their controlled agitation - as stressful as all this was for the aliens posted here, the Vulcans were facing ghosts from their past, essentially pre-Reformation Vulcans who'd disagreed with Surak's message of peace and logic violently enough to leave their planet and their people, gamble their lives in the cruel void of space some 1,800 hundred years ago, at a time when space travel was a much more dangerous endeavor than in these modern times… and yet against all odds, these people had not just survived, but thrived, and now these ghosts from Vulcan's past were returning home, and they were returning with thoughts of vengeance and retribution in their hearts and minds.

Eventually, Trip grabbed a brief working lunch with Senva, but there were no jests now between them now, for Trip could swear that Senva was grinding her teeth the whole time, like a mad sju-bear. A twenty minute detour to survey the progress made on Heracles followed lunch, and then a brief discussion with T'Pol over a host of technical issues, and there was no time for either levity or politeness now, just a series of brisk questions and terse answers going both ways, after which Trip departed for the next bay, and the next, and the next…

Eight hours later, Trip grabbed a tasty dinner with Ayvok and T'Fel in a fairly private corner of Uzh Palik's pub, and then went back to work for another seven hours, after which he dragged himself to his quarters and his shower, and afterward his bed.

And even as Trip slept, the Romulan armada callously plowed through the wreckage of the Reeking Regatta, shields on high as the Romulan ships drove carelessly through the shattered and burnt metal hulls and frozen bodies of some 29,000 civilians of a half dozen assorted species. What might have seemed a grim sight to any species save Klingon, was occasion for R'Hienn, the Romulan Consul, to grin with pleasure.

This is only the beginning of the blood-letting, thought R'Hienn. Only the beginning.

And with that R'Hienn turned to Kelvitt, head of the Imperial Shrikes, and said, "I trust your troops on Vulcan and Earth stand ready to support our operations."

"They will act when the time comes, Consul, never fear," said Kelvitt. "Their wake-up call will be transmitted six days from now, giving them ten days to cause additional havoc in preparation for our arrival."

The wake-up call of which Kelvitt was speaking, was an encrypted short-burst transmission, broadcast to Vulcan and Earth by a cloaked Bird of Prey from just inside each of those respective star systems… the transmission would be repeated hourly for one full period of planetary rotation, and no transmissions were expected in response, though if any Imperial Shrikes or Marines still lived on Earth or Vulcan, they would answer the call to action, holding nothing back.

* * *

The next day seemed destined to be a repeat of the previous day for Trip, but there was one pleasant interruption.

"Captain," said Uzh Palik's Comm officer. "You have a personal transmission from Earth."

"Put it through, please," said Trip.

"Yes, sir."

A moment later, the monitor in Trip's office flickered to life, and Trip smiled.

"Dad," said Trip. "Good to see you."

"Am I interrupting something?" said Charles Tucker the elder, usually just called Charlie.

"Not at all," said Trip, lying through his teeth. "How are you? How's mom? Elizabeth?"

"We're doing all right," said Charlie. "Your mom will call you later, if the connection's still strong by the time she gets back home."

"Good. If not, give her and Elizabeth my love."

"Will do," said Charlie. "I hear that we're running out of time."

"I prefer to think that it's the Romulans who are running out of time."

"That's my boy," said Charlie. "That's the kind of confidence I want to hear. How's T'Fel?"

"She's good, dad."

"Ayvok?"

"He's well," said Trip. "You know he got married, right? I think I told you that in my last email."

"You did, and Elizabeth is inconsolable," said Charlie with a grin.

Trip looked fondly at his father, and said, "Tell her to be strong."

"I take it you're not coming home for the final showdown?" said Charlie.

"No, dad. I make my stand here."

Charlie understood, then said, "I heard from Erika the other day. Enterprise, Columbia and the 3rd NX ship just out of dock, Dauntless, are all over the news here to boost our spirits, each ship leading swarms of Delus ships."

Trip nodded, understanding the public relations move for what it was, a morale boosting exercise, and morale truly needed boosting now… the Delus ships were scrappy little fighters, and stood a decent chance against Birds of Prey, but God help them against the Warbirds, unless they were willing to repeat Trebia's suicide maneuver.

"Well, let them have their parade, dad," said Trip. "The butcher's bill will come due soon enough."

As a retired U.S. Marine Corps Lt-General, Charlie was quite aware of that, and said, "Well, Uzh Palik should make a dent in the Romulan offense."

"What do you mean?" said Trip.

Charlie frowned at that, and said, "Don't tell me you're leaving that station out of the battle? From what you've told me, she's armed to the teeth, and up-armored, or rather, strongly shielded. We've talked tactics and strategy before, Trip. Use Uzh Palik as a shield wall to blunt the Romulan attack. If those shields are as strong as I think they are, Uzh Palik will be a powerful asset."

"She can't maneuver, dad," said Trip, though his mind was already racing, for two dozen Vulcan cruisers could move Uzh Palik about by grasping the shipyard's central core with their tractor beams - obviously, the station would never win a dogfight in space, but still… "Damn it, dad, that's a great idea!"

"I'm sure your admirals have thought of it already," said Charlie.

"If so they haven't said a damned thing about it yet," said Trip. "Dad, I've got to go. You're on to something here and I need to float the idea to someone in charge."

"So go," said Charlie. "Take care of business."

"Will do," said Trip, then made a direct call to Admiral Ryan's office, in order to request a brief meeting.

Forty minutes later, Ryan gestured for Trip to take a seat as the man was shown into his office.

"So, what's up, Captain?" said Ryan.

"I'd like to run something by you, sir," said Trip, and did just that in a matter of minutes.

"Damn," said Ryan, for the man was no fool. "That's a hell of an idea, son."

"And it's not just a matter of firepower, sir," said Trip. "Wounded ships can berth immediately in order to receive aid, and I'm betting we could stabilize a fair number of those ships, and get them back into the fight in time to make a difference. No other shipyard can make that claim."

Ryan nodded, thinking furiously… this idea was definitely worth discussing with the Vulcans.

"Hell of an idea, Captain," said Ryan, repeating himself.

"Wasn't mine, sir," said Trip. "My dad's a former Marine, and it was his thought."

"Well, we'll have to draft his ass into the fleet than," said Ryan. "We need thinkers like that. Ok, get out of here, let me talk to the Vulcans, and I'll get back to you in a day or so."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Back on Earth, Jon & Erika walked from the private shuttle port on StarFleet's campus towards the HQ building and a scheduled briefing to be conducted by Admiral Forrest for every fleet captain within Earth's system.

That briefing would be followed by an extended discussion on the proper strategy and tactics to be employed in defending Earth itself, as well as Earth's modest holdings in space, namely the highly successful colony on Alpha Centauri, the budding colony on Tau Ceti, the thriving colony on Altair, and the huge mining complex on 61 Virlinis, as well as four dozen other ventures too minor to defend, and too minor to be worth attacking.

"I can't believe it's come to this," said Erika, as they reached the HQ building. "Earth, under siege."

"It's a cruel world out there, baby," said Jon, trying to make light of it all, though privately, he was just as appalled by all of this.

"Yeah, ok, I forget you've got a bit more deep space experience than the rest of us captains," said Erika, "but I'll have you know that I'm purposely timing my PMS to coincide with the Romulan attack. You know what a bitch I can be at that time of the month!"

Jon laughed at that, because Erika was generally quite pleasant to deal with, no matter the state of her biological functions, but he was willing to play along, and said, "Oh, Erika, in that case I almost feel sorry for the Romulans. Still, they've earned what you're gonna give them."

"Damned right they have!" said Erika.

Just then, they'd reached the elevator banks where they ran into Zatachi, captain of the 3rd NX, the Dauntless. The three captains shared the elevator as they made small talk, for they'd all known each other for years, and then the trio reached the auditorium where Forrest would conduct the briefing. Some two hundred captains were in attendance here already, and these entire proceedings were being transmitted to Earth's colonies and facilities in space, and those captains could pose their own questions and concerns to Forrest, for these holdings located close enough to Earth that Vulcan sub-space transmitters could route the comm stream to Forrest with only a slight delay.

As expected, the briefing lasted an hour, while the planning and discussion lasted another ten hours, with a brief lunch break squeezed in there, after which things broke down into an informal discussion before the 209 ship captains in attendance began drifting away for now, for this day's planning session would be repeated for the next two days… still, no one grumbled, for there was literally nothing more important than this issue now.

* * *

Meanwhile, on Andoria, things ran more efficiently, for the martial culture of the Andorians had long planned for the defense of their homeworld and their colonies, and although the Andorians had planned all this with a Klingon invasion in mind, Klingon or Romulan, an invader was an invader. Unlike Earth or Vulcan, there was no great tension here at the prospect of combat, only a sense of purpose and excitement, for unlike the other member species of the Federation, the Andorians viewed war as a creative act, rather than a destructive one, and viewed the crucible of war as a place for the species to be strengthened as the weak, the dumb and the unlucky perished, while the strong and the clever survived... what's more, each war was inevitably followed by a sexual frenzy which lasted for months or years, as the victors bred freely to replenish the gene pool in the traditional Andorian manner.

And so, given plans long set in place, it simply remained for Aethon, the Andorian Emperor, and his military leaders to verify that the best officers of each Band were properly situated to control this upcoming struggle, even as the crews of each Band made certain that their ships were ready for war. Once that review and duty assignment was complete, it was just a matter of waiting for the proper opportunity to strike against the Romulans, for the Andorians generally preferred to take the initiative, even when dealing with a numerically superior opponent.

* * *

As for Tellar and Denobula, they were located somewhat outside the general area of Earth, Vulcan and Andoria, and so they'd have to rely upon each other to a greater extent than the other worlds of the Federation... but they were realistic enough to deal with the matter properly, and rather than two separate fleets, they created three fleets - one each to defend their respective homeworld, and a third fleet in between, to function as something of a reserve force to rush wherever needed. What made this venture feasible was that the Tellarites and Denobulans had a long record of cooperation, and general good will towards each other.

* * *

The Klingons themselves were ready to act as well, and among them nothing major needed doing, for the Klingons, like the Romulans and the Andorians, were always on a war footing… all that the Klingon fleets needed was a mission, and that would shortly come their way from the High Council, even as the Klingons stripped what ships they could from other sectors of the Klingon Empire in anticipation of the glorious battle soon to come… and so the clock kept ticking, as the players drew ever closer together, the fate of seven species hanging in the balance.

* * *

"Shran! Long time no see," said Trip, coming around his desk as the Andorian entered his office.

That much was true, for Shran had pushed hard since taking command of the nearest Group, an Andorian military formation composed of ninety-six ships of war, focusing his efforts into making his Group the best in the Andorian fleet, and although his men visited Uzh Palik regularly, Shran had kept his nose to the grindstone.

"Three weeks, I think," said Shran, following Trip's prompt, and taking a seat on a couch.

"What are you drinking, Shran?"

"Bourbon, please," said Shran, and a bit later both he and Trip had a drink in hand.

"So what brings you here?" said Trip.

"The Emperor has recalled my Group to Andoria, so I came to say goodbye in case things end badly," said Shran, after taking a sip of bourbon.

"We'll meet again, Shran," said Trip. "You'll make it through."

Here, Shran gave Trip a shit eating grin, and said, "Of course I'll make it through. When I said that I came to say goodbye in case things go badly, I meant in case things go badly for you."

Trip laughed at that, for Shran's ability to bullshit was truly legendary, but Shran was Shran, and it was comforting to know that some things in the universe were a constant.

"Well, I appreciate that, Shran," said Trip.

He then poured three fingers of bourbon in Shran's now empty glass, and then his own, after which they spoke for the next hour or so, before Shran said his goodbyes.

Amusingly, Shran gave Trip an Italian style kiss on the cheek, man to man, for Trip and Archer had gotten Shran hooked on Earth's mob movie classics, and Trip laughed at the Andorian's antics, and with that Shran departed with his Group in tow, and Trip sighed at that, wondering if he'd ever see Shran again.


	62. Chapter 62

— **Chapter 62 —**

* * *

The next few days were more of same prep work on Uzh Palik, all in anticipation of the Romulan attack, and by now the entirety of Vulcan's Navy was in orbit, and the sight of that fleet was impressive as hell, hundreds of glossy red combat cruisers, each of them dwarfing anything built by Humans to date… frankly, this Vulcan fleet seemed all but invincible, but its very presence here in such numbers testified to Vulcan's fear of the Romulans, for the Vulcans clearly thought that gathering their entire fleet was absolutely necessary in order to hopefully beat back the Romulans.

And even as Vulcan probes now tracked the enemy armada from multiple points of view, the Romulan fleets entered Syndicate space at best speed, where they were met by a delegation of three Orion Syndicate ships, broadcasting a message of welcome for the Romulans… these ships were expected here and now, else the Romulans would have simply blown them to hell, no matter their agreements with the Syndicate.

"Consul," said the comm officer of the J'Vrett, the consul's flag ship. "The Orions are hailing us."

R'Hienn nodded, and the comm officer routed the transmission to the J'Vrett's main video monitor on the Bridge, where a beefy Orion was suddenly displayed on the monitor.

"Greetings, Consul," said the Orion. "I am your liaison with the Syndicate. My name is Laffram."

R'Hienn barely dipped his head in acknowledgment of Laffram, then said, "I assume that you can be of some assistance to me, Laffram."

"Yes, Consul," said Laffram, privately wishing that he could drive his fist into the Romulan's snotty face.

"How?"

"I have starmaps that go all the way to Vulcan, and Andoria, Consul," said Laffram. "To gather the Vulcan starmaps cost some of us prison time in one of Vulcan's penal facilities, while the Andorian maps cost us blood, though our people managed to beam their scans back into Syndicate space. The Andorians have never treated us justly, but we hope that you will now help us balance the numerous injustices we've suffered at Ando—."

"Transmit those starmaps to my ship," said R'Hienn, purposely cutting off the Orion's little homily.

"Yes, Consul."

"Anything else to say?"

"What would you like to know, Consul?"

"What can you tell us of the Andorian fleet, Laffram?"

"The Andorian fleet is composed of five Bands, subdivided into two Groups each, although the numbers are fluid, and sometimes one Band or Group may grow, as another shrinks. Who can understand the Andorians? But near as we can determine from the long range sensor data we've captured, we're facing some 400 Andorian ships."

The Tal Shiar's estimates agreed with Laffram's numbers, so R'Hienn nodded… as expected the Romulan 10th fleet, numbering at 190 ships would be outnumbered by the Andorian, but no matter - the 10th was never expected to conquer Andoria, merely serve as a strategic threat to Andoria, thus fixing the Andorian fleet in place and keeping them from reinforcing the rest of the Federation fleets. That task should be doable, though it would have helped to have some 400 - 500 Orion and Nausicaan ships to aid the 10th, as promised…

"The Orion Syndicate and Nausicaan Collective pledged to support my drive to Andoria with 400-500 ships. Do you have that number assembled?" said R'Hienn, knowing damned well that those numbers were not there, given the way that the Andorians had bloodied that prematurely gathered Orion & Nausicaan fleet.

"Ah, not exactly, Consul," said Laffram. "Unfortunately, our combined fleet was attacked by the Andorians, and we took some damage. We bloodied the Andorians badly, Consul, but they dispersed our ships, after a bitterly contested battle."

The Consul knew that none of that was true, for a cloaked Bird of Prey had witnessed that sorry spectacle - this filth had scattered like a covey of pigeons before the Andorians… no matter, the 10th would stiffen their resolve, and once they'd served their use R'Hienn had his own plans for the them both, for Syndicate space was vast, and just begging for assimilation into the Romulan Empire.

"So how many ships can you provide, Laffram?" said R'Hienn.

"It pleases me to inform the Consul that we have 240 ships awaiting your armada, a fifty hour flight from here."

"Good," said R'Hienn, for that would apparently have to do, and those gathered ships were still better than nothing, if not the full measure of what he'd been promised. "We are pleased, Laffram, and rest assured that the Empire will repay your loyalty."

* * *

"Captain," said Senva, stepping inside Trip's office.

"Yes?"

"We have been summoned down to Vulcan," said Senva.

"Where? By whom?"

"Admiral Kelek's office," said Senva, in answer to both questions.

Trip recognized the name: Kelek had been tapped to command the Vulcan Navy's defense of Vulcan.

"All right," said Trip, and moments later he and Senva moved through the halls, towards the shuttle bay.

"Do you have any idea why Admiral Kelek wishes to meet with us, Captain?" said Senva.

"Yes," said Trip, as he suspected that Kelek wanted to discuss Uzh Palik's role in the upcoming battle.

Senva waited for more, but when Trip said nothing further the Vulcan looked at him, and said, "Well?"

"Well what?" said Trip, purposely annoying Senva. "Let it be a surprise."

"I hate surprises, Captain," said Senva.

"Spoilsport," said Trip, and then quickly brought Senva up to speed.

"Interesting," said Senva, as they stepped inside the elevator, already occupied by T'Pol and Selek, one of Heracles' engineers.

"Captain," said T'Pol.

"I hear we got your ship patched up a bit early," said Trip to T'Pol, after which he turned his attention to Selek. "Is Engineering satisfied with our work?"

"We are, Captain Tucker," said Selek.

"So I take it you're out of here than, Captain," said Trip, looking at T'Pol. "Stay safe out ther—"

"We are not quite ready to depart, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, as the elevator came to a stop on Deck 9.

"As you please, Captain. Have a good day," said Trip, and with that he and Senva exited to elevator.

Fifteen minutes later their shuttle landed at the private spaceport which serviced the main administrative building of the High Command, and ten minutes later Trip & Senva were in Admiral Kelek's office, where they found the Human admiral, Ryan, already there.

"Welcome, Captain Tucker," said Kelek, after which the Vulcan gave Senva a brief ta'al, the Vulcan hand gesture of greeting. "Please, take a seat, both of you."

In typical Vulcan fashion, Kelek got down to business with admirable speed, and the discussion between Kelek, Ryan, Trip & Senva lasted two hours, after which Kelek signed onto the scheme to give Uzh Palik a place in the line of battle.

"I will assign the requisite number of ships to move Uzh Palik about as needed," said Kelek. "Now, what about this ship you have retrofitted - Tek'Surron. I know that she is undergoing trials, right now. Is she fit for battle?"

"Yes, Admiral," said Trip.

"What are your plans for it?" said Kelek.

"Unless the High Command orders otherwise," said Trip, "I intend to take Tek'Surron into battle, and leave Senva in charge of Uzh Palik."

Kelek nodded his approval of those plans, and said, "Your ship will be one of Uzh Palik's handlers, Captain Tucker. That way your ship can contribute to the fight, and yet you can still communicate and coordinate with Senva as needed."

"Yes, Admiral," said Trip.

It took another twenty minutes to tidy things up, after which Trip and Senva were dismissed.

"Uzh Palik would have been a safer platform for you, Captain," said Senva. "You are going to regret your choice, if Tek'Surron gets blasted to bits around you."

Trip murmured in agreement with Senva, but said nothing in response, as they made way through the building, and towards their shuttle.

"But perhaps that is your goal, Captain Tucker…"

"Eh?" said Trip. "What's that?"

"Yes, a hero's death defending Vulcan might be preferable to what's facing you, no?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Senva?"

"T'Pol almost positively hisses when she sets eyes on T'Fel. There must be a logical reason for that, Captain," said Senva, with a raised brow. "Care to let me in on that secret?"

"You're crazy, Senva."

"Indeed," said the Vulcan. "Fun fact, Captain. Did you know that none of Vulcan's predators share their mates?"

"Fascinating," said Trip. "What's your point, Senva?"

"Vulcans were once predators as well, Captain Tucker," said Senva. "Although those days are gone, the instinct remains. You will have to make a choice, Captain, or else those two kittens will eventually savage each other."

Trip studied Senva for a few moments, than said, "You don't miss much, do you?"

"I do not, Captain."

"And you don't seem disturbed at the prospect of violence either," said Trip.

"I am not."

"And why is that, Senva?"

"When all else fails, it is the Vulcan way."

* * *

A few more days passed and now each Federation ship was fully manned, for although the Romulans were not yet expected, no one was taking the chance that the Romulans might somehow spoof the sensor nets and arrive early to catch the Federation ships undermanned, and vulnerable… Oh, shuttles still ferried people and equipment about, but the lion's share of the preparatory work was done… now it was just a matter of waiting and tracking the armada through the sensor telemetry transmitted to Vulcan by the probes scattered about weeks earlier.

Unfortunately for both Earth and Vulcan, the wakeup transmission meant for the Imperial Shrikes and Marines was broadcast right on schedule, ten days before the armada's arrival into Federation space, and the response on both Earth, and Vulcan, was astoundingly violent as those soldiers took to their task of creating chaos with a vengeance. It was shocking really, for not even Klingons brought such savagery to their attacks, as the Klingons restrained their attacks to honorable combatants to some degree, but these Romulans…

The attacks were seemingly random, geared to create panic and sow confusion in the planetary psyche, and their only aim seemed to be to rack up the highest number of casualties while causing the most devastating of material losses. Some of the attacks even seemed insane on the face of it, as the completion of those missions now frequently required squads of Romulan soldiers to die in order to achieve their goals, but that made sense too… now was the time to spend Romulan lives freely in order to secure victory, but the kind of morale required to consistently create soldiers willing to die was impressive, and somewhat daunting.

On Earth at least, some attempt was made to mitigate these attacks when EarthGov, backed by the High Command, ordered that all Vulcans shelter in place, meaning that any Vulcans seen moving about would be treated as Romulan targets. That was Sek's idea, one which Harris had quickly endorsed to EarthGov, and it was a mixed success… true, the Romulans could no longer conceal themselves among the Vulcans on Earth, but that only made them more volatile than ever, willing to rock and roll anywhere, anytime… and than, a similar approach was impossible on Vulcan itself, given that the Vulcans and the surgically altered Romulans looked identical, and so the violence on Vulcan was even worse, but there was nothing to be done about it, save to absorb the losses, and kill those Romulan mother fuckers!


	63. Chapter 63

— **Chapter 63 —**

* * *

Two days after the Romulan armada entered Syndicate space, it reached the site where a combined fleet of 240 Orion/Nausicaan ships awaited the Romulans… and here, without the need for discussion, the Romulan armada split as its component fleets went their own way.

The 1st and the 2nd fleets peeled off on an alternate course which would take them to Tellar and Denobula after a fifteen day flight.

The 3rd, 4th, 7th and 8th fleets maintained their current heading under R'Hienn's command, while the 10th fleet peeled off for Andoria with the Orion and Nausicaan ships in tow.

* * *

"All right, captains," said Senva, her voice transmitted to the captains of squadron A70. "Let us try it again please."

Squadron A70 was composed of 20 Vulcan cruisers, including Tek'Surron, and this squadron was tasked with maneuvering and manipulating the Uzh Palik through the use of their tractor beams during the course of the upcoming battle, under Senva's direction. Now if Uzh Palik was no longer required, or able, to participate in the battle, command of the squadron would then revert to the senior captain, Ivet, and Ivet's task would then be to take this squadron into combat.

For now, a stream of affirmative replies to Senva's request was enough to begin the process once again as Senva guided the squadron in a series of drills which saw Uzh Palik shift altitude and direction in order to target a number of drones with its weapons, after which Trip did the same for the next two hours, under the assumption that he might well have to direct Uzh Palik in case Control sustained damage. After Trip had put the squadron through its paces, Captain Ivet himself took a turn at leading this coordinated effort, and slowly they all improved in precisely positioning Uzh Palik just so, and these drills were scheduled to continue through the Vulcan day and night.

* * *

A day's worth of battle maneuvers had just been conducted in Earth's Sol system under Admiral Forrest's direction, and the progress made by the relatively new Human navy was impressive… but was it enough?

The admiral had divided 207 Delus ships in three squadrons of 69 ships each, an NX class ship heading each squadron - Enterprise led Alpha Squadron, Columbia led Beta Squadron, and the recently launched Dauntless led Gamma Squadron, and these squadrons were purposely organized with one overriding goal in mind, for these squadrons were dedicated Warbird killers, as those huge Romulan ships were both, the greatest danger to Earth's navy, as well as the greatest danger to Earth itself, for it was the huge Warbirds which carried 47 large atomic weapons each as part of their payload, and it was with these weapons that the Romulans intended to burn Earth with a nuclear fire.

And so Forrest planned to swarm each Warbird before it could launch its atomic weapons, only to jump to the next Warbird, and the next, and the next… it would be a two way race, with Humans trying to destroy each and every Warbird even if they lost the overall battle, while the Romulan Warbirds would race to reach Earth and launch their atomic payloads, all while defending themselves, and being defended by their squadrons of Birds of Prey.

Frankly, the Humans were taking a desperate gamble here, and the odds were against them, given the relative weakness of the Delus class ships in comparison to the Romulan ships, but then an insight provided by Enterprise's XO, Lt-Commander Reed, gave serious cause for optimism. It was so damned simple too, so damned in your face that you couldn't see it until it was pointed out: and for that idea Lt-Commander Reed was promoted to full commander on the spot, and marked for his own command after this dustup with the Romulans was settled, for the fleet had need of men such as Reed.

* * *

Meanwhile, it was the 10th Romulan fleet, along with their Orion and Nausicaan allies, which made first contact with the enemy, some two days flight from Andoria, for Andorian military doctrine called for seizing the initiative, even against numerical odds. Worse yet, for the joint Romulan fleet, those blue skinned bastards achieved tactical surprise, which should have been impossible given the width of the sensor net created by 430 ships… but the Andorians achieved tactical surprise by cleverly making use of Acronis-Vega 9, a small sized black hole in space.

The Andorians were intimately acquainted with A-V9's characteristics, and so the 2nd, 3rd and 5th Bands skirted the very edge of navigable space around A-V9, and naturally, that black hole interfered with the effectiveness of the sensor nets of the joint Romulan/Orion/Nausicaan fleet, first by absorbing the energetic output of the Andorian Bands which would have otherwise betrayed them, while also absorbing the sensor data of the joint Romulan fleet, negating the bounce back which would normally return vital information back to the Romulan fleet. Far too late to avoid, the Andorian Bands came around A-V9 at high warp speed, closing distance with the Romulans and essentially catching the joint fleet flat footed, and ripe for a beating.

240 Andorian combat cruisers, each ship armed with five particle cannon batteries raked the enemy fleet… and while the Romulans were quickest on the draw, powering shields and maneuvering for advantage immediately, they still lost 17 ships. The Orion/Nausicaan fleet, crewed by amateurs, was slower to respond, and their losses were four times that of the Romulans, though the joint Romulan fleet still held a numerical advantage of 345 to 240 so far… surely enough to do the job.

And yet the Andorians placed the Romulans on the horns of a dilemma here, for they eschewed the relatively fixed warfare more typical of Humans and Vulcans, and moved about like schools of fast moving fish, as Bands broke into Groups, and Groups broke into Squadrons, always taking evasive action even as they attacked, and all while placing Orion or Nausicaan ships between themselves and the Romulans at every opportunity.

Still, that posed no great moral qualms for the Romulans, who fired both plasma torpedoes and disruptor canon batteries towards Andorian ships with nary a thought for the hapless Orion/Nausicaan ships caught in the wicked Romulan/Andorian crossfire. And then suddenly, the Andorians broke and fled, squadrons melding into Groups, and then Groups into Bands as they laid course for Andoria at best speed.

"The Orions are hailing us, sir," said the ship's Comm officer.

Taillen nodded, and the video monitor displayed a furious Orion, Laffram, screaming into the monitor, "What the hell were you doing, Romulan? You purposely fired onto our ships on the off-chance you'd strike at the Andorians! You are a fucking idiot!"

In the normal course of events, a Romulan would punish such candid opinions with a painful death, but death was the planned outcome for these people anyway, and Taillen was determined to get maximum utility out of his 'allies' in the meantime.

"Calm yourself, Laffram," said Taillen. "It was a mistake, nothing more."

"A mistake that cost us another forty ships!" said Laffram, for between the initial Andorian passage, and the latter losses due to the Andorian/Romulan crossfire, the Orion/Nausicaan fleet had lost 108 ships.

"It won't happen again," said Taillen.

The Orion fumed, than said, "Well let's go after them! Let's avenge our losses!"

"Fool," said Taillen, "the Andorians flee in order to lure us into an ambush."

"Perhaps," said the Orion, for that was indeed possible. "So what now?"

"We should search for Andorian survivors in the wreckage," said Taillen. "I have people that could interrogate such survivors properly, and surely extract some useful information from them."

"Don't bother," said the Orion. "We scanned the wreckage just to make certain, but the Andorians typically use their tractor beams to drag away their damaged ships, or they destroy them if they're unable to do so. They don't leave people behind, to be used as hostages. I told you that they're insane. So, what now?"

"Now we take an alternate route to Andoria, and thus sidestep any pre-planned surprises along this course."

* * *

"That was well done," said Aethon, the Andorian Emperor, over wide band transmission: he had indeed been waiting with the 1st and 4th Bands to properly ambush the pursuing Romulans and their flunkies, and though that gambit had not paid off, the effort had still been worthwhile. "2nd, 3rd and 5th - report."

Each Band made a report of their losses… 23 Andorian combat cruisers had been lost during this raid. A regrettable loss, but still worth it, in order to bloody the Romulans and their stooges. Unfortunately, the leader of the 2nd Band had been killed along with his ship, which left the 2nd Band leaderless. No matter…

"Shran," said Aethon, "with Uslun gone, you'll take command of the 2nd."

"Yes, Highness," said Shran.

The latest reports scrolled up in the small display panel built into Aethon's command chair, and the reports made it clear that the Romulans were not falling into the trap laid out for them… there was no sign of Romulan pursuit.

"We fall back to Andoria," said Aethon.

* * *

And even as the Andorian Bands set course for home, the first ship signs of the Romulan 3rd, 4th, 7th and 8th fleets under R'Hienn showed up on Vulcan's long range sensors, and the timetable to an armed showdown was now essentially set in stone, as the Romulans would reach Vulcan in 54 hours worth of flight time, at their current speed, and they were not coming to negotiate.

The Romulan numbers troubled the planners in the High Command, for 695 Romulan ships were on course for Vulcan, and those numbers improved only marginally when 145 Romulan ships altered trajectory, clearly headed for Earth.

A swift warning of the Romulan ships headed their way was transmitted to Earth, and there was consternation in the High Command, for StarFleet was a relatively new organization, and this to be their first large scale battle. Still, there was nothing to be done over the matter as Vulcan had its hands full with the 550 Romulan ships still on course for Vulcan.

* * *

Seventeen hours after the initial clash with the Andorians, the joint Romulan/Orion/Nausicaan fleet reached the Andorian system, and the Romulan sensor sweeps of the system were not encouraging as they showed 377 Andorian combat cruisers, closing distance with the joint Romulan fleet even now.

The Romulan fleet leader, Taillen, had only minutes to decide upon his approach to this dilemma. He had his orders. He was to bleed the Andorians, either through open battle, or through a series of running skirmishes, a guerilla campaign… trouble was, a straight out battle was undesirable now, as Taillen saw things. After the previous Andorian raid on his fleet, Taillen's fleet was now outnumbered - he led 173 Romulan ships, and 132 Orion & Nausicaan ships against a greater number of the enemy - moreso, the Orions and Nausicaans had proven themselves to be fairly useless, for of the 23 Andorian ships killed earlier, only 5 of them had been destroyed by the Orions, or Nausicaans.

So, direct combat was inadvisable, though not necessarily precluded - and without the element of surprise working for the Andorians, Taillen was certain that his men would prove themselves much more effective this time around. The decisive factor which caused Taillen to opt for direct combat was the presence of 37 Warbirds in his fleet, for the Andorians had nothing like those huge ships.

And with that decision made, the joint Romulan fleet headed towards the Andorian fleet, and they all knew the way of it. Ships would pass through the ranks of the enemy at a perilously close range, unleashing canon fire and torpedoes against their opponents at a distance which practically guaranteed that each volley would cause maximum damage. The rush of it all was intoxicating to Taillen, as well as every other Romulan, for the Old Blood still ran in their veins...

* * *

Aethon watched the Romulan approach from his command chair without fear, but that was unremarkable… part of that was due to a confidence on Aethon's part in his Guards and his ships, but the greater part of it was due to the combative mindset of Andorians, for it was not in their nature to be cowed by threats, or stand for an invasion of their territory without a proper response.

"Comm," said Aethon now, addressing the communications officer, "hail the largest Orion ship. Tight band transmission."

"Yes, Highness," said the comm officer: a tight band transmission was a direct, LOS (line of sight) transmission, which could not be eavesdropped upon, save by actually moving between the transmitting party, and the receiver.

A moment later a beefy Orion answered the Emperor's call.

"Do you recognize me?" said Aethon.

"No," said Laffram. "Should I?"

"Yes," said Aethon. "I'm Aethon, Andoria's emperor."

Laffram said nothing as he digested that information: true, the Andorians were the enemy, but they were also prideful, and they always remembered a slight, and so there was little to be gained by insulting the Andorian emperor.

"How may I be of service to you, Highness?" said Laffram.

"You might be of service to me by turning on the Romulans when the battle between us begins, and I might forgive your trespass in my sector," said Aethon. "Or at the very least, you might consider departing this sector of space as soon as the battle is joined, leaving us to settle the issue with the Romulans alone."

Laffram said nothing, though inwardly conflicted… to betray the Romulans might carry a price, but to ignore Aethon's advice would definitely carry a price. The authority delegated him by the Syndicate gave Laffram the discretion to abandon the Romulans if their cause seemed hopeless, but still… he so hated Andorians.

"I will consider your words, Highness," said Laffram, needing every single second left him, to decide upon the choice he faced.

The battle commenced shortly, and it did so with an astounding ferocity… and true to their nature, the Orions took to their heels a few moments before the clash, neatly turning aside from the Andorian charge, headed back towards Syndicate space - the Romulans, hard as they were, they were a distant menace for the majority of the Orions, while the Andorians were predators which hunted regularly in Syndicate space. In any case, it was Laffram's call to make, and his first priority now was saving the remnants of the fleet with which he'd been entrusted, for as Laffram saw things, the Orions had shed more than enough blood for the Romulan cause. Quite naturally, the Nausicaans followed the Orion's lead, leaving 173 Romulan ships to face 377 Andorian ships.

Now the Romulans were no fools, and the odds were now so skewed at to make retreat the rational response, and so the 10th Romulan fleet made a run for Vulcan at best speed, harried the entire way by all five Andorian Bands... of the 173 Romulan ships which fled Andoria, 97 would live to reach Vulcan, though the Romulans also managed to destroy 42 Andorian cruisers during that ill fated retreat.


	64. Chapter 64

— **Chapter 64 —**

* * *

"…and since we moved T'Rel to Control, we need to choose between Kelvek and S'Anask to lead Deck 9," said Senva, looking into her desktop video monitor.

"Make it Kelvek," said Trip. "They're both good, but Kelvek handles stress better than S'Anask. And with that, it seems we're about done here, Senva."

Senva nodded, and sighed. They'd been at this for three hours now, as Trip was still taking care of Uzh Palik's business, though he was bound to Tek'Surron by the current circumstances, for the Romulans had maintained their speed and heading for Vulcan the past 46 hours, and assuming they continued to do just that, they'd reach Vulcan in 8 hours, and there was nothing to be done about it all save to welcome them properly, given Romulan intentions.

Senva's head turned from the monitor just then, as the Vulcan took note of someone entering her office.

"Latest readiness reports?" said Senva.

"Yes, SubCommander," said the unseen visitor, and Trip recognized T'Fel's voice.

"Take a seat, T'Fel," said Senva. "I will be with you in a minute."

"Yes, SubCommander," said T'Fel, "but you may wish to check with S'Bek before we get started. He has dispatches from the High Command."

Senva nodded, looked at Trip and said, "Would you mind hanging on, Captain Tucker? The content of the High Command's message might interest you, if it touches on Uzh Palik."

"Sure," said Trip, "I'll wait."

Moments later Senva had clearly vacated the office, for the SubCommander's video monitor was spun around and T'Fel's face now filled the monitor, and Trip grinned… it was good to see her again, and the Vulcan sported a sweet look on her face.

"How are you, darling?" said Trip.

"I am well," said T'Fel. "I have missed you."

"As have I," said Trip. "How are things with you?"

"Tense," said T'Fel. "This will be my first battle, and Vulcan's fate hangs in the balance. Talk about pressure."

"It'll be all right, T'Fel."

"You don't know that, Trip."

"That's true," said Trip, "but that's out of our hands. Let's make a deal: if the Romulans kill us, we'll haunt them from beyond the grave."

"Deal," said T'Fel, "and I take comfort from the fact that I wil—"

Just then the cabin's door slid aside and T'Fel apparently heard the door's operation, for she fell silent.

Senva made eye contact with Trip, then glanced at T'Fel, and her glance was precious - subdued amusement and skepticism were clearly stamped on her features.

"Would you like the office to yourselves for a bit?" said Senva. "To handle ship's business, I mean."

"I appreciate the offer," said Trip, with a deadpan look which gave nothing away, "but there're things which demand my attention aboard Tek'Surron now. T'Fel, we'll speak of that assignment in a few hours. I'll call you before the Romulans reach us."

"Yes, Captain," said T'Fel, and she blushed slightly, for Senva had snorted slightly at that, clearly amused at Trip's 'coded' message: and with that, Trip's transmission stream ended, and Senva and T'Fel got down to some real work.

* * *

R'Hienn had just stepped from his sumptuous cabin when he ran into a tribune, D'Haila, and R'Hienn nodded to the tribune casually when the woman saluted.

"News?" said R'Hienn.

"Yes, Consul," said D'Haila, holding a Romulan PADD unit out for R'Hienn. "The Vulcans are flooding the area with jamming frequencies, and constantly moving their ships about in order to confuse us, but we believe that their ships number roughly 341 Vulcan, 2 Denobulan, 11 Human and 1 Tellarite."

R'Hienn nodded, studying the data as they walked for the Bridge, then said, "Have those five large blips been identified?"

"Four of them are clearly orbital shipyards, Consul, and the fifth, that square block, must be some kind of an arms depot."

R'Hienn nodded, and said, "We'll need to take that depot out quickly. Probably there to restock their missiles. Anything else, D'Haila?"

"Yes, Consul," said the tribune. "The Orions and the Nausicaans have betrayed the 10th, and fled. Taillen was badly outnumbered and chose retreat, lest he lose his entire fleet. The 10th is coming here, with the Andorians in pursuit. Both will reach us in 70 hours or so."

R'Hienn cursed at that bit of information, but Taillen had done the right thing in preserving his ships… but he'd best prove his worth at Vulcan, lest he lose his head. It was a tricky matter though, for the 10th's failure meant that he'd best defeat the Vulcans quickly, in order to stand with the 10th and crush the Andorians. Tricky timing, but doable.

"No matter," said R'Hienn. "What of the 8th fleet?"

"They will not reach Earth for another 40 hours or so, Consul."

R'Hienn nodded…

"Very well, Tribune. Thank you," said R'Hienn, and with that D'Haila saluted, and then departed.

* * *

It was with the setting sun on Vulcan's capital city that the Romulans arrived in that star system, and they ignored a transmission from the High Command which offered truce & negotiation. Instead, the Romulans simply plowed on in directly towards the Vulcan ships, as a long range reconnaissance survey of the system had already been conducted by cloaked ships, and so R'Hienn knew that this gathering of Vulcan ships was the entirety of Vulcan's defense.

The close range weapons fire between Vulcan and Romulan forces was frightening in its ferocity, as ships on both sides fired salvo after salvo of phaser or disruptor fire from a range of fifty miles or so, which was essentially point blank range in the scope of ship to ship combat, all while moving, and jockeying for position in three dimensions.

An hour later they were still at it, R'Hienn's ships still pressing their attack into the Vulcan ranks, for the Romulans wished to batter the Vulcan fleet, destroy Vulcan morale, and wrest an unconditional surrender from the High Command. That they had a numerical advantage over the Vulcans was gratifying to R'Hienn, and though the imminent arrival of the Andorians imposed something of a deadline on this operation, R'Hienn was confident that the outcome of this battle would favor his ships.

A brief respite came, almost as if by joint agreement, as both sides tried to restore some measure of order to a battle which had devolved into a confused scrimmage, and then the Romulan 3rd & 4th fleets slammed into the Vulcan lines with deadly force once more, a group of 121 Warbirds forming the tip of the Romulan attack, cutting into the ranks of the Federation ships with a brutal efficiency, and all this as hundreds more Birds of Prey filled in the space between the Warbirds, every Romulan ship unloading their weapons fire into the Vulcans…

And the huge Vulcan cruisers returned their own withering fire, and Birds of Prey met fiery ends, losses for the Romulans, just as the Tellarite ship, 1 Denobulan and 5 Human ships were losses for the Federation, losses to be eventually followed by 48 Vulcan ships, all at a cost of 9 Warbirds and 32 Birds of Prey. Once that initial press had faltered, the Romulans filled in the gaps with more ships and pressed forward once more, determined to break the line.

Meanwhile, the 7th fleet swung wide and struck the Vulcan line on the right flank, causing damage and nearly spreading panic there, for Vulcan ships just barely holding back the main Romulan attack were now taking damage on their flanks, attacked on two fronts, and grudgingly the entire Vulcan line began falling back. Oh, it was a disciplined retreat, but it was still retreat, and that reluctance to engage only heightened Romulan efforts to break the Vulcan line.

To Romulan eyes it was clear that the Vulcans were in a dire situation, for their retreat abandoned the huge square depot in space which scanners showed was filled with photon torpedoes… and with a single salvo, a dozen Warbirds vaporized the depot, before turning their attention and their weapons back onto the Vulcan line - and still the Vulcans gave ground, and R'Hienn laughed aloud, for soon there'd be no further room in which to fall back, and the Vulcan line would surely break… and then something damnably unexpected happened.

The small shipyard past which the majority of the Vulcans had already retreated suddenly raised shields and that was unexpected, for orbital shipyards were never shielded… and then that damned thing opened fire on the left flank of the Romulan fleets and that attack was devastating, crumbling that flank with brutal efficiency!

That first salvo alone, 144 particle cannon batteries, each battery comprised of 5 cannons, all added up to 720 particle blasts, and those blasts were supplemented by a volley of 47 photon torpedoes, and together they tore into the Romulan ranks! Birds of Prey just broke, shattered and then violently exploded, while Warbirds were rocked back, as their shields were first battered and then brought down… and then the Warbirds themselves began exploding under sustained fire, for the salvos coming from that cursed station were repeated every two seconds.

The damage done the left flank of the Romulan offensive was a shock to them all, and a cause for optimism to the Vulcan Navy, even as the Vulcan Admiral Kelek ordered a counterattack, to capitalize upon this reversal of fortune.

The Romulans had lost 62 Birds of Prey and 24 Warbirds to Uzh Palik's sustained attack, and with the added pressure of the Vulcan offense the Romulans themselves now fell back, even as Uzh Palik launched a last salvo… once outside Uzh Palik's range the Romulans fought the Vulcans to a standstill, and after a bit, the Vulcan Admiral Kelek ordered the Vulcan ships to fall back to Uzh Palik once again.

By now, Uzh Palik had been moved by the tractor beams of her handlers, and she now faced the Romulans, even as the Vulcan ships fell in around Uzh Palik like lost sheep, and the Romulans were wise enough to remain outside Uzh Palik's firing solution, as both sides evaluated their positions once more.

* * *

Just barely within the boundary of the Vulcan star system, a Klingon cruiser named DaLang observed the battle for Vulcan on long range sensors, and though this ship surely showed up on both Vulcan and Romulan sensors, both combatants had more pressing problems at the moment… a single Klingon ship was of no concern to either party at the moment, for it could safely be assumed that the Klingons were mere spectators to something as unique as the battle now taking place between the Vulcans and their long lost brothers… yes, it would be quite reasonable to dismiss DaLang as a mere spectator, but such was not the case here, for DaLang was here with a purpose.

"It's happening, Captain!" said Mogh, DaLang's Weapons officer. "The Romulans have engaged the Vulcans. Our time has come!"

KraTak, captain of DaLang simply nodded in agreement, and turned to his Communications officer: "Send the word!"

"Yes, Captain!" said the Comm officer.

And with that a communication stream was dispatched towards the Klingon Empire, and it was here that the war between the Klingon and the Romulan truly began, though it would take another 5 days for DaLang's transmission to reach the Klingon High Council… and with its primary mission in the Alpha quadrant now ably performed, DaLang's secondary mission was to monitor the situation in the Alpha Quadrant, functioning as an intelligence gathering platform.

* * *

R'Hienn stared at the Vulcan line of battle, all those ships taking shelter next to that cursed dreadnought posing as a shipyard, and the Consul was furious that none of the Tal Shiar operatives serving on Vulcan had the brains to send warning of that monster. The losses he'd suffered in such a brief span troubled R'Hienn, not for the lost lives, but for the tactical advantages which he'd possessed, and now possessed no longer.

"Launch an atomic salvo at that station," said R'Hienn. "Every Warbird."

"Yes, Consul," said R'Hienn's Tactical officer, and then ordered a fleet wide salvo of nuclear missiles on his mark: soon after, 180 nuclear missiles were launched directly for Uzh Palik, blazing through the intervening space…

* * *

"Suppressive fire," said Senva to Uzh Palik's Weapons officer.

As the highest ranking officer aboard Uzh Palik Senva was in charge of the station's defenses, unless Captain Tucker, who was listening to Control's chatter should choose to override her orders. In response to Senva's order, Uzh Palik's particle cannon batteries began firing towards the still distant missiles, long before they entered weapons range. Moments later, the Vulcan ships surrounding the station added their fire to Uzh Palik's, vaporizing the inbound wave of atomic weapons before they could reach their target…

And with that Romulan gambit now rebuffed, the battle had reached a temporary stalemate, as the Romulans dared not go against the weapons fire of Vulcan ships and Uzh Palik combined, while the Vulcans thought it foolish to venture from Uzh Palik's side and engage the Romulans in battle outside the range of Uzh Palik's weapons fire. Although the situation was something of a tactical draw at the moment, an extended contest would favor the Vulcans… even now, damaged ships docked with Uzh Palik, where engineering crews swarmed those ships, supplementing the ship's engineers and making repairs at a feverish pace.

Two hours after the initial clash, the Romulans tried to bypass Uzh Palik in order to bomb Vulcan's surface with atomic weapons, but the Vulcan Navy repelled their attempts, especially with Uzh Palik always a threat, for the Vulcan squadron assigned to Uzh Palik simply moved the station from its geosynchronous orbit into a low Vulcan orbit and now the planet's spin spun Uzh Palik in a circular pattern around Vulcan - on it's own, Uzh Palik would have circled Vulcan every 120 minutes, but with the aid of its maneuvering squadron which added their own engine thrust to the planet's rotaion, Uzh Palik could spin around Vulcan in 2.3 minutes, more than fast enough to be dragged out of low orbit at any point which needed reinforcement against the the Romulan attacks.

"Recall the 1st and the 2nd," said R'Hienn, at the end of it all, frustrated now.

The 1st and 2nd had split off earlier on a course for Tellar and Denobula, but those two member planets of the Federation must wait for now, as R'Hienn saw things. Vulcan needed to be broken first, and R'Hienn now knew that he needed those ships.

"The timing. It will be a close thing, Consul," said R'Hienns Tactical officer, seeing R'Hienn's purpose. "The 1st & 2nd will arrive here just about the same time as the 10th and the Andorians."

"I know," said R'Hienn.


	65. Chapter 65

— **Chapter 65 —**

* * *

"Commander," said the Kumari's Comm officer. "I have a transmission from the Emperor."

The Andorians were still in pursuit of the Romulan fleet which had targeted Andoria in concert with the Orions and Nausicaans, even as that fleet made a run for Vulcan at best speed, all while fighting off the pursuing Andorian ships.

"Put it up," said Shran, indicating the large video monitor on the Bridge with a wave of the hand.

A moment later, Aethon's visage was displayed on the monitor, and every Imperial Guard on the Bridge of the Kumari stood, and saluted the Emperor.

"Highness," said Shran.

"Shran," said Aethon, "I've spoken with the Vulcans, and it seems that they're under something of a siege, but they've also notified me that a Romulan fleet is headed for Earth. I want you to take the 2nd Band to Earth. These Humans are new to large scale war. Aid them."

"Highness," said Shran, "the coming battle for Vulcan sounds dire. My place is with my fellow Guards, in defense of my Emperor."

"Your place is where I want it to be, Shran."

A moment's silence, then Shran said, "Of course, Highness."

"Good," said Aethon. "Go then, and return with news of victory."

Shran nodded in affirmation of his orders, even as Aethon ended the comm stream.

"Comm," said Shran. "Notify the 2nd Band to set course for Earth. We depart on my mark."

* * *

"…and so," said Admiral Forrest in summation, as his words were broadcast to the entire fleet, "we expect the Romulans to reach our system within ten hours. Until then we'll update the situation as warranted. I am now setting Condition Yellow throughout the fleet."

Condition Yellow enforced a strict discipline on the fleet which essentially canceled all non-essential movement on and off ships, even as it required that all essential posts and departments be fully staffed around the clock, most especially Command, Helm, Tactical & Engineering.

"Carry on," said Forrest, and with that the admiral's comm stream ended.

With Forrest's transmission ended, Archer left the newly frocked Commander Reed in charge of the Enterprise, and headed for his Ready Room, where Archer poured himself some coffee, propped his feet atop his desk, and promptly lost himself in thought…

By this time tomorrow the fleet would be forever changed. Even with the adoption of Malcolm's plan, a plan which might or might not work, hundreds or thousands of fleet personnel could soon die, and if they failed to defend Earth, billions would die. An extensive nuclear bombardment from orbit would devastate the world's infrastructure, disrupting the vital flow of food and medical supplies even as it brought the energy grid down, and the cascading effect of those disruptions and the ensuing lawlessness which was surely bound to follow, would actually cause more deaths within two months than the actual bombardment of every large city on Earth.

With a sigh Archer topped off his coffee cup and turned on the video monitor, pulling up the newsfeeds from Earth. Those fucking Imperial Shrikes and Marines were doing a damned good job of waging a war all by themselves. Three day's ago they'd killed half the British royal family, today they'd tried for the Japanese Emperor - they'd missed the Emperor, but got the heir apparent and his wife, and as a consolation prize they torched the Imperial palace in Kyoto, though in both cases they left dozens of their own behind as corpses. Hundreds of Romulans had been killed in the past ten days, for they'd taken suicidal risks to achieve their goals, but they kept working around the clock, and Archer suspected they'd do so to the last man… the big question was, how many more left to go?

The talking heads on the news broadcasts were nothing but depressing, spreading a morass of hysteria and fear, and so Archer turned off the feeds, and pulled up the personnel files, looking at all the young, eager faces, and wondering how many of them would be corpses by the morrow... and then Archer wondered if he'd be one of those corpses by that time.

* * *

Time moved on, and much too soon the 8th Romulan fleet of 145 ships reached Earth's Sol system, to face 209 of StarFleet's finest ships and crews. Although StarFleet had a numerical advantage, in truth the Human fleet was the tactical underdog… Earth brought 3 NX class ships and 206 Delus class ships, against 41 Warbirds and 104 Birds of Prey. Considering that a single Warbird could probably take on all three NX ships and still stand a good chance of victory, and easily take on a dozen Delus with an even chance of victory, the prognosis for StarFleet was not a happy one.

The Romulans also knew they held the winning hand here, and although they'd initially blasted the entire system with sensor scans in anticipation of an ambush, they now came directly for Earth where StarFleet waited for them in an odd formation.

"What the hell am I looking at?" thought Leasset, the 8th fleet's commander, as the Romulan fleet approached the Human fleet at 1/200th impulse drive.

Leasset's confusion was understandable, for the Humans had scattered some 600 cargo ships about before the oncoming Romulan fleet.

"That must be a third of their merchant fleet," thought Leasset. "Probably every merchant ship currently in port."

More to the point, StarFleet's vessels seemed to be taking cover behind the cargo ships… it was a ridiculous gambit so far as Leasset was concerned. Even though those cargo ships provided cover, taking advantage of that cover required that those Delus ships give up mobility, which seemed a recipe for disaster.

"1st & 2nd squadrons," said Leasset, "make a pass, let's study their response."

30 ships broke from the 8th fleet and passed across the length of the Federation line, launching a number of plasma torpedoes half of which were indeed intercepted by the cargo ships as intended by the Humans, but the return fire was light, and so the two Romulan squadrons returned to their place in the Romulan line with nary a mark on them.

"9th and 10 squadrons," said Leasset, "make a push, but don't commit to the attack. Stand ready to pull back on my command."

The named squadrons did as ordered, pushing towards the Humans, and the Humans responded by retreating, all while firing at the 9th and 10th squadrons… Not a terribly effective defense, and the two squadrons pulled back on Leasset's command even as the Humans slipped back up through the cargo ships for the front of the line.

"We should attack!" said Teslan, the young scion of a noble house, just recently joined the Imperial Navy.

Leasset gave the lieutenant an eagle eyed look, and said, "Did I ask for your opinion, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir," said Teslan.

"Then shut your mouth," said Leasset, who had both, the rank and the political connections to ignore this young patrician fool. "You understand?"

"Yes, sir,' said Teslan, his cheeks colored with suppressed anger: people did not treat his kind like this!

Leasset looked at his Tactical officer, Szet, a trusted veteran, and Leasset raised a brow.

"We'll have to dig them out of there eventually, sir," said Szet, for bombing the cargo ships would just shift things around, but not dislodge the Humans from their positions.

Leasset was silent for a time, for he was uneasy…

"Give me a sensor reading of those cargo ships," said R'Dell.

Moments later Teslan said, "I have 607 cargo ships filled with an assortment of grains, bulk foods, consumer goods, assorted industrial metals, raw materials, water, and such, sir. I detect nothing of concern to us."

"Are those ships manned?" said Leasset, wondering if those ships were crewed with soldiers intent of boarding Romulans ships given the chance.

"No, sir," said Teslan. "The cargo ships are unmanned."

"All right," said Leasset, still wary. "Let's go in."

And on Leasset's command, the Romulan line, spread 20 miles wide and 5 miles tall to match the Human formation, moved towards the Humans. There was ample room between the Romulan ships to maneuver freely, yet still be well within range of the other Romulan ships in order to present a cohesive front.

And the Humans, give them scant credit, held to their strategy, and began launching photon torpedoes towards the approaching Romulan line, and shortly afterwards opened up with salvo after salvo of phaser fire… but their streams of phaser fire weren't focused on individual targets and so presented no trouble for the Warbirds, massed front and center, although the photon torpedoes weakened their shields, at which point the Warbirds in questions simply dropped back as other Warbirds took their place at the front of the line. As for the Birds of Prey, they relied on maneuver to avoid the phasers, and if their shields ate a photon torpedo now and then, that was still not enough damage inflicted upon them to destroy those Romulan ships, and so the entire line advanced relentlessly.

And so StarFleet's vessels fell back now, back through line after line of floating debris in the form of empty cargo vessels, fighting viciously for every foot, yet still they slowly yielded before the Romulans, until suddenly, acting as one, StarFleet's vessels turned and fled the field of battle.

The Romulans, surprised at the sudden turnabout moved in pursuit… yet even before all of StarFleet's vessels had found their way out of the field of floating debris, a hellish fire erupted from the empty cargo ships, as a transmitted signal from Admiral Forrest's ship triggered a half dozen, lead encased nuclear warheads, aboard each and every cargo ship.

It had been the five inch lead jackets covering each warhead, jackets penetrated only by a slender wire hooked to a transceiver, which had kept the Romulan sensors from detecting those warheads, and now 3,642 nuclear warheads exploded amidst the Romulan fleet…

Now true, in the vacuum of space, blast overpressure and thus shockwaves were not a concern for the Romulans, but nuclear explosions release prodigious amounts of thermal radiation, and ionizing radiation… and the Romulan shields were overloaded by the sheer amount of thermal and ionizing radiation produced by that large a number of nuclear explosions. Those shields promptly collapsed, allowing both heat and radiation to damage Romulan ships, and kill Romulan crews, in the blink of an eye, long before that excess could be bled off by the cold vacuum of space. Not all of them, not all ships, not every crew, but more than enough to make a difference… and when StarFleet launched its counterattack, the Romulans were essentially defenseless - and none were spared.

That 36 StarFleet vessels had not been quick enough to make it out of the blast zone in time was a regrettable fact, but they'd all assumed the risks of being there, and they'd all known the danger in allowing the Romulans to escape that atomic minefield. And so, through the use of Reed's cunning stratagem, the 8th Romulan fleet was defeated, and Earth itself saved.

By the time Shran's 2nd Band arrived some twelve hours later, there wasn't much to show for the 8th Romulan fleet, but a seemingly endless field of debris, and with that the 2nd Band turned round, with Enterprise, Columbia and 100 Delus ships to accompany the 2nd, directly for Vulcan, while 64 damaged Delus ships, and the third NX, Dauntless, remained behind to be repaired, and secure Earth.

* * *

"Great day!" said Harris, smiling as he joined Sek on Fisherman's Wharf, as the Vulcan looked out onto San Francisco Bay.

"Indeed," said Sek. "Your people did well to save Earth, Harris. I hope my people can do the same."

"They will," said Harris. "Three days ago, Denobulan scouts detected two Romulan fleets heading for their sector, but then suddenly the Romulans turned back on a course which will take them to Vulcan, and so both Tellar and Denobula are sending some of their ships for Vulcan as well. It looks like the battle for Vulcan will be a hell of a fight."

Sek nodded, then said, "Now all you have to do is hunt down the remaining Shrikes & Marines here on Earth."

"And that's going to be a bitch," said Harris. "Those fuckers just won't stop, will they?"

"No," said Sek, and left it at that.


	66. Chapter 66

— **Chapter 66 —**

* * *

It took five days for DaLang's transmission to cross the space between the Vulcan system and the Klingon homeworld, Qo'noS, and within minutes of that transmission's reception, the message was decrypted and forwarded to the Klingon High Council. The drums of war sounded almost immediately, both figuratively and quite literally, as the Klingon High Council made a declaration of war, for that declaration was preceded, and then followed, by the booming sounds of a traditional drum solo on ten of the twelve foot high war drums known as tsarkos.

Three hours after the High Council's declaration of war, word of it reached Khitomer, the place to which all Klingon forces had temporarily withdrawn in service to the treaty between Klingon and Romulan empires, and it was from Khitomer that the Klingon war machine swarmed out towards the Star Empire now, some 1,100 hundred combat cruisers of various classes, accompanied by 309 huge troop carriers there to ferry the infantry soldiers and mechanized cavalry which would surely be necessary to control vital Romulan worlds. It would be weeks before they reached the border, weeks more before they reached the core worlds of the Star Empire, but they were well on their way now, with every Klingon heart singing in joy at the prospect of battle.

Not surprisingly, for Romulans were never a trusting people, a half dozen cloaked Warbirds stationed around Khitomer noted the Klingons flooding past the treaty line, and the Warbird El'Rejj transmitted this information back into the Star Empire, on a tight band transmission. None of the Klingon ships would pick up this transmission, and though they might well suspect the presence of cloaked Romulan ships, the Klingons were without the sensor enhancements which Section 31 had spread among the Federation, and which granted Federation ships a fairly decent chance to spot cloaked ships.

Eleven hours later, the El'Rejj received a return transmission from Praetor He'vrek, second in the Star Empire's chain of command, and upon receiving its orders, El'Rejj led her cloaked squadron into the heart of the Klingon Empire, and on a course for Qo'noS.

* * *

"You look tired," said Trip, looking at T'Pol's face in the video monitor atop his desk. "You don't have to do it all yourself, T'Pol. You know that, right?"

"I know," said T'Pol, and left it at that.

"How did Heracles pull through that last skirmish?" said Trip.

There'd been a half dozen skirmishes between the Romulan/Federation ships after that first massive Romulan push for victory, which had been been turned aside by Uzh Palik, but those skirmishes had been inconclusive. The Romulans had generally gotten the best of them, but damaged Federation ships were quickly rotated to Uzh Palik for repairs, while the Romulans were unable to capitalize upon those small victories without coming within Uzh Palik's firing solution, an act which R'Hienn was not willing to entertain at the moment, but it was only a matter of time until the two sides would close in a final clash to settle this issue between them.

"The ship is in better condition than many others," said T'Pol, "but I lost four people."

Trip murmured a few word of commiseration with T'Pol, but the Vulcan clearly didn't want to hear it… like all good captains, she cared for her crew, and though logic told T'Pol that she had no guilt here, the losses were still hard to bear.

"I have to go," said T'Pol. "People need to see me on the Bridge at this time, I can't isolate myself."

"Call if you need anything," said Trip, and T'Pol nodded in assurance she'd do just that, and then severed the comm stream.

Trip spoke with Erika then for a bit, as Columbia was within visual range of Tek'Surron, and right afterward he was hailed by Enterprise.

"Commander Reed," said Trip, giving his old shipmate a grin: the man was moving up fast in rank, and rightfully so, considering his contribution to Earth's defense. "How are you?"

"I'm well, Trip," said Malcolm. "It's good to see you again."

"It is," said Trip. "Is this a social call, or is it business?"

"A bit of both," said Malcolm. "We're waiting to dock with Uzh Palik briefly, and onload some photon torpedoes. We've gone through our full complement during the last two skirmishes."

"Well bully for you, Malcolm," said Trip. "Personally I'd be just as happy if these Romulan pricks turned round and headed for home, but if it takes photon torpedoes to send them home, well, that's what it takes."

"And on that topic," said Malcolm, "I was hoping you could move us to the top of the queue, so we could return to our post with due haste. I'd hate to be docked to Uzh Palik when the Romulans attack."

"Can't help you, Malcolm," said Trip. "I won't override Senva without good reason. Trust me, our people are moving as fast as possible - that's their world down below, Malcolm. No one's screwing around."

"Right," said Malcolm, understanding Trip's logic.

"Where's Jon?"

"We're taking turns on the couch in the captain's Ready Room," said Malcolm.

"How's everyone on Enterprise?"

"It's a mixed bag, Trip," said Malcolm. "We've had a few fatalities, and a good number of casualties. Dillard's burned pretty badly, but Phlox is keeping him sedated. Poor bastard's going to feel it though when he wakes up, but they're shipping him down to Vulcan for some skin regeneration, which should help a lot."

Trip felt for Dillard. The man had been a good lieutenant, and he was a friend, but such things were beyond his ken… thankfully, the Vulcans would give him the best medical treatment available, given that Dillard had been wounded in defense of Vulcan.

"I hear you," said Trip, then caught the flashing button on his comm unit, which requested his presence on Tek'Surron's Bridge. "Hey, I've got to go, Malcolm. Stay safe."

"You too," said Malcolm.

"The Romulans are on the move, Captain," said Tek'Surron's Tactical officer of the watch, as Trip took the captain's chair.

Tactical was right, Trip saw that clearly, as did every other Federation captain, and Federation ships moved to match Romulan dispositions. The numbers were about even now, what with the reinforcements from Earth, Denobula, Tellar and Andor for the Federation and the three Romulan fleets which had joined R'Hienn's fleet - the 2/3 remnant of the 10th fleet which had failed to take Andoria, and the 1st and 2nd fleets sent for Tellar and Denobula, which had not yet seen combat in this campaign.

The Romulan line was fifty miles wide, and thirty high, with 180 Warbirds massed in the center of the Romulan line, while another 32 Warbirds secured the left flank, and 29 more the right flank, the space between the three clusters of Warbirds filled by hundreds of Birds of Prey.

Uzh Palik held the center of the Federation line, while flanked on both sides by hundreds of Vulcan cruisers of various sizes. To the right, that flank was held by the Andorians, while the left flank was secured by Humans, Denobulans and Tellarites.

It truly was a awesome sight, this battlefield and its gathered fleets, certainly the largest any of the Federation's member species had ever seen before. Even the Romulans had not seen its like since their last war with the Klingons… and though the moment in which both sides appraised each other seemed to last forever, when that moment passed, it passed with bang like no other…

Faster than the eye could follow, or the brain process, a lightly crewed Warbird stripped of all but essential personnel repeated the Trebia's maneuver, and rammed Uzh Palik at full impulse speed - the Warbird's mass of almost 3 million metric tons, five times that of an NX class ship, plowed into Uzh Palik at full impulse, 70 million kilometers per hour in a blow to swift too avoid, too powerful to mitigate, even by Uzh Palik's superlative shields… it was not a perfect hit, but it was more than good enough. Uzh Palik's right wing and the bottom half of the core section had simply been vaporized, killing thousands of engineers, and completely taking the station out of the coming battle. The top half of the core section still held in one piece, and though the left wing was also one solid piece, it floated freely now, separated from the core.

The after sight of Uzh Palik's destruction was like a starting gun, and with that, both lines of battle surged forward, each seeking the other's destruction.

Meanwhile, Trip knew that the second in which Uzh Palik suffered such catastrophic damage, damage control procedures would see that blast doors dropped immediately in place, to save what lives they could from the cold vacuum of space, even as fires were automatically put out and backup generators all over what was left of Uzh Palik kicked in, functioning off battery power.

A quick look at his command console showed Trip that just eight of the Vulcan ships which had maneuvered Uzh Palik about were still functional, for some had been outright destroyed by the attack on Uzh Palik, while others were badly damaged, and incapable of rendering aid, so Trip acted.

"Let's drag what's left of Uzh Palik into low orbit," said Trip. "We'll leave it there for the non-combatant Vulcan Navy ships to evacuate, and then we'll join the battle. Comm, contact the High Command, let's get some help for Uzh Palik."

A series of affirmative replies answered Trip's orders, and it was short work to lock tractor beams on what was left of the core section, and the left wing, and then drag both to a low orbit which would take Uzh Palik's remains from the line of battle, and give its survivors a chance.

"Tek'Surron to Uzh Palik," said Trip.

"Control here," said Senva, moments later, her bruised and bloodied visage clearly displayed on Tek'Surron's monitor: thankfully, T'Fel was visible there too, and she seemed whole, if battered and disoriented.

"We're dragging what's left of Uzh Palik into low orbit," said Trip. "We've already spoken with the High Command, and they're mobilizing help and transport for what's left of the crew. The first shuttles, filled with engineers in EV suits, are already leaving the planet. As soon as they establish some connection points, transport ships will follow to evacuate the station."

"Understood," said Senva.

"Hang in there, Senva," said Trip. "We'll leave you here, we have to join the fight now, but you'll be all right."

"Good luck, Captain," said Senva, and Trip took one last look at T'Fel, but the Vulcan still seemed dazed. Clearly, neither she nor the captain had been buckled in when the Uzh Palik was struck, but there was nothing to be done about it now, so Trip whispered a prayer for T'Fel's wellbeing, and severed the connection. "Tactical, let's join the fight."

"Yes, Captain," said Tek'Surron's Tactical officer, and the eight ships left of the maneuvering squadron joined a battle already well in motion.

* * *

You'd think that the Romulans, fighting as a cohesive unit would have an advantage in this fight, but it wasn't quite working out that way, and the mix of Federation species was the cause. They all fought so damned differently, and the Star Navy found it difficult to adjust to the mix.

The Andorians flowed through the Romulan ranks likes schools of fish, trading point blank barrages of weapons fire, and it was a brutal but effective form of combat.

The Vulcans in their organized ranks were easier to deal with, but the huge Vulcan cruisers fired salvos of phaser fire that cut through the shields of Birds of Prey, and then tore those same ships apart, and when they locked horns with a Warbird, the battle between them was close enough to even to make no difference…

…and then there were the Humans, nowhere as aggressive as the Andorians, but still willing to close distance with the enemy, all while pressing the attack with dogged determination, and than, the Tellarites and Denobulans worked hand in glove, rotating their ships in attack, and taking the least damage of any here, and if their tactics were dull, they were also effective.

It was five hours later that the two sides separated, both badly bloodied, but what had finally caused separation was R'Hienn's death, when the Consul's flagship was relentlessly blasted by a trio of Vulcan cruisers until an accurate phaser bombardment struck the Warbirds engines directly which ended that particular fight, and with that, each side pulled back and yet continued long range bombardment with missiles and phaser blasts at the other, all while striving to bring order to their ranks.

The Tellarite and Vulcan admirals were both wounded, and evacuated to Vulcan for medical treatment, which left Aethon and Forrest as the highest ranking officers on the field - normally, command would have gone to Aethon, but Tellarites and Denobulans were not well acquainted with Andorians, nor Andorians with them, so Aethon passed command to Forrest.

Just then, the Romulan fleet turned tail and ran from Vulcan at best speed, and though none among the Federation yet knew the reason why, a decision was needed… follow the retreating Romulans and finish this thing with a treaty, or let them go, and hope that was the last of them.

"We finish it!" said Aethon. "We either burn their holding, or if you have no stomach for that, we wring a treaty out of them."

The Vulcans were all for letting them go, as were the Denobulans, while the Tellarites agreed with Aethon, so it was for Forrest to cast the deciding vote.

"We finish it," said Forrest, and with that every ship still capable to war, took off in pursuit of the Romulans.

* * *

It was dawn over the Klingon Empire's First City on Qo'noS, the Klingon capital, when the six Romulan Warbirds assumed a low orbit trajectory over the Klingon homeworld and opened fire, lobbing atomic weapons onto Qo'noS as the planet rotated beneath them: there were dozens of Klingon combat cruisers in orbit, and they opened fire on the Romulans almost instantly.

For their part, the Romulans made no effort to flee, merely kept firing upon the planet below until their shields overloaded and their ships were destroyed, but in the process they took out 54 large cities on Qo'noS, most especially the First City, which was now an open air mausoleum… but than, all the targeted cities were just that now.

All in all, civilian losses were a half billion Klingons. The Klingons had sent a message by breaking faith with the Star Empire - the Romulans were just sending their own message to the Klingons - 'Betray us, and die.'


	67. Chapter 67

— **Chapter 67 —**

* * *

"…and so," said Praetor He'vrek, winding down a motivational speech beamed out to the entirety of the 5th, 6th and 9th fleets in charge of defending the Star Empire from the oncoming tide of Klingon ships, "stand to your duties. We all have our part to play in the defense of our empire, and we will not fail each other, or our people. We did not come this far since leaving Vulcan so many hundreds of years ago, survive against such odds as we faced, only to be beaten now by a gathering of jackals."

And with that He'Vrek ended his speech, even as orders went out immediately, and those orders were carried out by He'vrek's men with a commitment and a drive which was not in the least dampened by the fact that the odds were against them… He'vrek was quite right to assume that no matter the odds, his people would not roll over and sue for peace… no, they would plan for victory, even in the darkest hour.

That's not to say that He'vrek was not privately concerned. He knew that his own fleets were outnumbered by the Klingons, and that the fleets returning from the Alpha Quadrant were returning with their own enemies in tow, in the form of a Federation fleet, knew that R'Hienn himself had been killed… and now was the time to take a gamble, which would noticeably weaken his forces currently, in order to grant him a chance at victory later. It was a risky move, but this was He'vrek's call to make, and make it he did.

Entering his office, He'vrek looked at the tribune acting as his personal assistant, and said, "I have orders for the 9th fleet."

The 9th fleet was currently laying cloaked mines in Klingon space, laying them before the Klingon armada, but He'vrek now intended to make use of that fleet in a strategic role, rather than a tactical one.

"Yes, Praetor," said the tribune, waiting for He'vrek to dictate his orders for the 9th.

* * *

"And so now we know the reason why the Romulan fleets left our sector in such haste," said T'Pol, addressing the Federation fleet's officer cadre from the captain's chair on Heracles, for she'd been the one to crack the encryption scheme which had stymied all attempts to decipher the intercepted message which had apparently drawn the Romulan fleets from the battle for Vulcan.

With the press of a button, T'Pol sent the translated message to the video monitor of every officer participating in this virtual meeting.

"As you can see," said T'Pol, "the Romulans have been betrayed by the Klingons in some manner, and now, with us in pursuit, they face a war on two fronts. We can use this fact to our advantage, hopefully, to wrest a treaty of neutrality from them in short order."

"So that's it?" said Aethon, from the bridge of his own ship. "All the misery they've caused in our sector, all the deaths? They get a pass? We just forget all that?"

"What would you suggest, my Lord Emperor?" said T'Pol.

"I would suggest we make them feel some real pain," said Aethon. "Pain is not just a method of punishment, it is also a means of education, and through the proper application of pain, we might teach these Romulans to leave our respective sectors in peace, never to return."

"My government would much prefer we reach a negotiated solution," said Soval, who'd been uploaded to the fleet, once the decision to pursue the Romulans had been agreed upon, on the chance that the ambassador could broker a peace treaty. "We should should strive to gain advantage over them in order to bring the Romulans to the negotiation table, but once we've done that, my government believes that we should rely upon diplomacy. I warn you, the old Vulcan mind is not amenable to coercion through pain and punishment - that will only breed resentment in the Romulans, and a desire for vengeance."

Aethon snorted his derision here - if that was truly the case, there was a much simpler solution to the Romulan problem.

"All of that merits discussion," said Admiral Forrest, "but we don't need to tie up the entire officer corps with this debate. I will initiate a private conference call among the 1st tier command structure after we break for lunch. Thank you, T'Pol, for bringing this to our attention. Thank you everyone for participating. That's it for now."

* * *

But that wasn't quite it, for at Eripak 9, a place with which the Romulans were familiar, they turned on the pursuing Federation fleet, like a wild boar turning on a pack of dogs. It was quite clever too, for the Romulan fleet sank inside the top layer of a gas giant as they seemingly intended to make use of the planet's gravitational rotation in order to sling their ships homeward faster, when instead they rode the rotation around a full 360, coming head-on at the Federation fleet as an unpleasant surprise. The clash was brief, savage, and devastating to both sides, with 47 ships lost by the Romulans and 63 by the Federation, before the Romulans resumed their course home.

Without undue delay, Forrest left six Vulcan cruisers behind to conduct rescue operations among the Federation ships, while resuming his pursuit of the Romulan fleet, with all other Federation ships.

Tek'Surron was among the rescue ships, and as they scanned the wreckage, looking for survivors, Trip noted with a fair amount of dread, that Heracles was among the ruined ships.

"Take that one," said Trip, looking at Tactical. "The Heracles."

"There are 9 survivors aboard Heracles, Captain," said the Tactical officer, "but the vital signs of two crewmen are quite faint."

Jesus, thought Trip, 9 survivors out of crew of 52.

Worse yet, was the thought of T'Pol being among the casualties, for Trip's Bond with T'Pol was unresponsive and opaque - whether opaque due to shock, or death, was still to be determined. Still, no way to know by standing around...

"Let's go. Let's get those people out," said Trip looking at Tactical to get the ball rolling, while he contacted Engineering to instruct them on the best way to get inside the StarFleet ship.

Twenty minutes later, Trip met the rescue shuttle as it brought Heracles' survivors aboard Tek'Surron. Thankfully, neither of the two crewmen in serious medical distress were T'Pol, and Trip felt like shit for thinking of it that way, that callously… and just then, T'Pol exited the shuttle and made eye contact with Trip, and the look on her face, and the dread feeling coming through the Bond, was hard to bear - T'Pol was devastated by the loss of so many of her crewmen.

"I wish to be of service aboard Tek'Surron, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, when she reached Trip. "Assign me to a place in which I can be of some service to your crew."

"Only place you're going now is Medical, T'Pol," said Trip, reaching out to touch T'Pol's temples, and showing her his fingers, stained with her green Vulcan blood.

"After Medical than," said T'Pol, knowing just how stubborn Trip could be at times.

"All right," said Trip. "I'd go with you, see what our Doc has to say about your health, but we need to keep working, save everyone we can."

"Of course, Captain," said T'Pol.

Over the course of the next four hours, the search and rescue party of Vulcan cruisers, pulled out 104 Federation survivors, while ignoring the 23 Romulan life signs aboard their ships - those bastards were on their own. With that task accomplished, the rescue party set off after the Federation fleet at best speed.

* * *

"Come in," said T'Pol.

She was in the guest quarters assigned her aboard Tek'Surron, for Medical had not seen any physical reason to concern itself with her… that's not to say that she was well, for the loss of the majority of her crew came close to crushing the Vulcan, disciplined though she was.

In response to T'Pol's vocal command, the cabin's door slid aside, and Trip stepped within.

"Hey," said Trip, looking at the Vulcan seated cross-legged on her bunk, feeling forlorn sorrow running through her end of the Bond.

T'Pol nodded in response, then lowered her gaze.

"Should I go?" said Trip.

"No."

"You want to talk?" said Trip.

"No," said T'Pol, and then, a moment later, held up her hand, palm facing Trip.

Trip knew the meaning of it. Vulcans were largely oriented as touch telepaths, and even Bonded couples increased the strength of their connection by touch, and despite his trepidation, for touch would essentially eliminate the mental barriers between them, Trip sensed T'Pol's turmoil, and it was a nasty thing, turning on her in a wave of guilt and self-recrimination at the loss of her crew. She was drowning in despair, and if he couldn't truly help T'Pol see her way out of that feeling, his support here might still be worth something here.

That initial touch was both startling, and confusing… there were physical sensations first, as Trip felt T'Pol's guilt as nausea, her self-blame as a the most painful of headaches just about splitting his head apart, joined with an incapacity to breathe… none of that was actually fact, it was all just a matter of his subconscious trying to give sensation to a novel and stronger form of psychic contact, but after a bit things sorted themselves out, and Trip felt all that came from T'Pol as a mental current, a painful stream of consciousness… there was nothing to be done about it either, for T'Pol was not looking for intellectual reassurance that the deaths among her crew had not been her fault - she understood that fact, logically. What she needed, and what she got, was merely the emotional support of her mate, a private witness to her pain, an intimate emotional support, and she got all that. At the end of it all, she felt noticeably better, and lowered her hand from his, turning down the intensity of their psychic contact, and regretfully so.

"You want to hit the Mess Hall?" said Trip. "I know you haven't eaten all day."

"I am not up to dealing with a noisy Mess Hall. Perhaps you could bring two meal trays here, and we could share a meal?" said T'Pol, looking up at Trip.

"Sure," said Trip. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

* * *

There was a beautiful light show now in Klingon space, still a ways from the Klingon/Romulan border, and the algorithm responsible for this display of light was quite basic, for all it did was take into account the speed and heading of the oncoming Klingon fleet, and that was more than enough to allow a fleet of cloaked Romulan ships to lay hundreds of cloaked mines along that course, and when the Klingon fleet struck those mines, hours later, the resulting explosions were a delight… 98 Klingon ships were lost with that maneuver, and a further 54 ships lost when the 9th fleet announced its presence by opening fire upon the Klingon fleet. By the time the Romulans had disengaged from that encounter and cloaked their ships, both sides had been well bloodied, and the Klingon fleet resumed its course, though after this they'd alter their course at random intervals, yet even so, such things would still happen twice more during the coming weeks, as the hands of different Romulan squadrons.

And the 9th Imperial fleet did not bother to follow the Klingons, waiting for another chance to strike, for the 9th fleet had just received He'vrek's orders, and they had a much more meaningful mission, and with that, the cloaked 9th fleet altered course, and headed deeper into the heart of the Klingon empire.

Still, those losses did nothing more than enrage the Klingons who'd already heard of the brutal Romulan attack on Qo'noS, and the desire for vengeance burned bright in Klingon hearts now… none among the warrior's ranks saw the culpability of the Klingon High Council in any of this, but privately, a number of the High Councilors already understood that they should perhaps have given Kargan's words of caution more weight in their deliberations, and ignored Molor's appeals for wealth and glory in conducting a war with the Romulans, yet there was nothing to be done about it all, now.

"We've gotten soft," thought High Councilor Krell, who'd initially supported Kargan's view of honoring their bargain with the Romulans, then eventually switched his support to Molor's point of view. "Oh, not physically soft, but mentally. Our fathers would never have stumbled so badly, never have allowed Qo'noS to be ravaged so cruelly."

Not surprising really, given that the Klingon war machine could roll over just about anyone… yes, there were the Gorn, and they were an exception, but the Gorn were isolationists and the Klingons had long ago learned to leave them alone… the Romulans had once been a stone which sharpened Klingon warriors, but things had been quiet between the two empires for the past nine decades, and apparently much of a Klingon warrior's poise and readiness had been lost due to a dangerous complacency born of always coming out on top, until eventually confronted by a truly competent opponent. Most distressing still, this complacency seemed to apply solely to the Klingons, for the Romulans certainly seemed to be at the top of their game, which probably meant that they'd been busy this whole time, expanding their empire in directions not easily discernible to either Klingon or Federation species observers.

"Well, no matter," thought Krell, philosophically making the best of it all. "We will regain our edge here, and our people will emerge from this conflict stronger than ever."


	68. Chapter 68

**— Chapter 68 —**

* * *

It took Trip fifteen minutes to return to T'Pol's cabin with two covered food trays in hand, one stacked atop the other, as well as two hot drinks and a small pastry box stacked atop the food trays.

During the time that T'Pol waited in her cabin for Trip's return, she'd tracked down her remaining crewmen aboard Tek'Surron, and she'd either spoken with them directly, or spoken with someone that could speak of their condition, and so T'Pol knew they were all as well cared for as possible, given the current circumstances. She'd just concluded her inquiries, when Trip stepped inside T'Pol's cabin loaded like a pack mule with all their goodies, and T'Pol rushed to his side to aid Trip with his load.

"Where would you like to eat?" said T'Pol.

Glancing around the room, Trip considered their options: T'Pol's desk, the bed, the floor, and a foot high coffee table.

"Let's take the coffee table," said Trip.

A minute later, their meal was properly laid out, and each of them was seated on a firm cushion which made the cross-legged posture more comfortable for them both.

"Looks good," said T'Pol, eyeing Trip's food selections.

She noted that Trip had simply chosen two identical food trays from the Mess Hall, but he'd done well enough with his selection. A chickpea curry from Earth, some deep-fried wedges of Andorian sea cucumbers, a dish composed of a wheat variant from Risa, one naturally endowed with a navy blue color, and that cracked wheat mixed with a number of aromatic herbs, green onions and tomatoes into something of a cold salad, two hand sized pieces of a fluffy flatbread filled with fire scorched mushrooms and melted cheese, and lastly, a small shredded salad, composed of daikon, mangoes & carrots dressed with rice vinegar, red chillies, sugar and lime juice.

They ate in silence for a time, though Trip eventually felt T'Pol's eyes on him as he ate…

"I'm sorry," said Trip. "I'm being lousy company. I'm just wondering how many of the people I've gotten to know aboard Uzh Palik still live."

T'Pol nodded in understanding, and they ate in silence a bit longer, before T'Pol looked at Trip, and said, "May I ask you something personal?"

"Mmmm, hmmm."

"What are you doing with T'Fel? Where is all that going?"

Trip sighed, debating for the moment if he even wished to answer T'Pol's question, then finally said, "She's torn in two at the moment. Her Vulcan respect for the nature of the Bond, it wars with her personal desires."

"She told you that?"

"Not in so many words, T'Pol."

"Then how do you know?"

"Because I know T'Fel," said Trip. "Anyway, I fear that she's going to give me the boot upon my return to Vulcan, at least until things between you and I are settled. Since I haven't severed our Bond, and you're acting illogically, she's—"

"I am acting illogically?" said T'Pol, brow raised. "She said that of me?"

"Easy tiger," said Trip. "But yes, T'Fel believes your logic is flawed where this Bond we share is concerned, and she thinks this plan of ours to wait 'till the end of the war to deal with the Bond is ridiculous, so I think she's working herself up to have 'The Talk' with me."

T'Pol studied Trip but said nothing for a time, waiting for Trip to continue, but when he kept his tongue, T'Pol found that she could not restrain herself.

"Perhaps you are mistaken, and perhaps she means to pressure you to dissolve our Bond," said T'Pol.

"She's not like that, T'Pol," said Trip. "She's wouldn't do that me, or you for that matter."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know the woman, T'Pol. I've already told you that."

The way he'd said that stung T'Pol, because Trip's affection for T'Fel was clear and unmistakable.

"You care for her deeply, don't you?" said T'Pol.

"Yes."

"I was hoping that it was simply a matter of sexual attraction between you, a simple dalliance," said T'Pol.

"T'Fel believes we are t'hy'la," said Trip, "and I see no reason to dispute that belief."

T'hy'la…

T'Pol understood that word, and it was a word with a lot of play in it, for it could imply at the very least a lifelong friendship, but it could imply much more than that… a deep emotional and spiritual kinship unaffected by the vagaries of life - and yes, it could also mean lover, for such intimate relationships could contain a healthy dose of sexual attraction joined to friendship and love, and if the emotional ties between t'hy'la were nowhere as demanding as those which bound mates together, well, those ties between t'hy'la had their own brand of power, and T'Pol bristled at the thought of Trip sharing that sort of a connection with any other female. Still…

"But she's willing to let you go?" said T'Pol, her heart filled with gratitude for T'Fel now, no matter the hard feelings she'd held for the woman until just moments earlier.

"Say instead that she's willing to give me the time to choose my way with a clear head," said Trip.

"So she believes that you and I have a chance, Trip," said T'Pol. "She must, if she's willing to pull back. Trip… do we have a chance?"

Trip said nothing… he'd brought some banana bread for them both to share for dessert, but the thought of losing T'Fel banished his craving for sweets, and turned the entire meal he'd just eaten into ashes, figuratively speaking.

"I have to go," said Trip, growing sick at the direction of his thoughts, and he began stacking the now empty trays back together. "I still have things to do on the Bridge."

He stood, and nodded towards T'Pol, but the Vulcan rose gracefully to her feet, and gently grabbed hold of Trip's bicep.

"If T'Fel truly means to do as you believe and pull back until things are settled between us, I will be forever grateful to her," said T'Pol, "and I would hope that in honor of her gesture, you would give our Bond serious consideration during that time. That is all I ask, Trip. That is all I can ask."

Just then, the comm system paged Trip, and the man left her cabin, leaving the Vulcan alone with her thoughts... and for the first time in a long time, T'Pol felt hope.

* * *

Back on the Bridge, at least there was good news for them all.

The entire Federation had stripped their planetary defense forces to the bare minimum number of ships required to defend Federation planets, as well as patched up some of the ships damaged during the Romulans attacks on Vulcan and Earth, and all that was done in order to send reinforcements to this leading Federation fleet, under Forrest's command.

Now these ships were on a direct course to rendezvous with the leading fleet, without the delays and detours originally forced upon the Federation fleet as the Romulans played out their games even in retreat, and so there was the expectation that these reinforcements would get here sooner, rather than later, and that was something truly worth celebrating.

Those extra ships would make a big difference in any showdown with the Romulans, even in case of Romulan victory, or rather, most especially in case of Romulan victory, for Forrest's fleet had to bleed the enemy badly enough to turn a tactical defeat at Romulan hands, into a strategic victory, by leaving behind a Romulan Navy so badly battered that it posed no threat to the Federation for years, thus giving the Federation time to rebuild their fleets.

* * *

It was just within the borders of the Star Empire, that a force of ten Klingon ships, one of twenty such squadrons tasked to scout the way for the Klingon armada at their back, came upon the Romulan listening post at Te'Selle, an airless moon. The Romulans had cause to think the post secure for it was cloaked, but it had not always been so, and the Klingons had marked its location twelve years ago, when it had originally been built.

Now coming upon Te'Selle, the Klingons had a choice - they could simply bomb the post from space, and they did so, but only until the cloaking generator was damaged, and the cloaking field dispelled… at which point, the Klingons sent troopers in EV suits to storm the interior of Te'Selle, in order to butcher the Romulans manning the outpost in hand to hand combat.

The fight for Te'Selle was vicious, with heavier casualties for the Klingons since they were attacking hardened defensive positions held by the Romulans, but the Klingons pushed for victory relentlessly, and as a result the fight was short lived. Within the hour, the 82 Romulans manning this post were dead, blasted with phaser or cut down with cold steel. The Klingons wished to make a point of it all, you see, and so the grisly video footage taken by helmet mounted cameras was beamed forwards into the Star Empire, as well as back towards the Klingon armada, as a portend that green Romulan blood would soon flow in rivers.

Some variation of such bloodletting occurred more than a dozen times during the next few days, as the various reconnaissance squadrons came across Romulans cargo ships, or various outposts, largely, but not completely abandoned in anticipation of Klingon attacks… and though the Klingons thoroughly enjoyed themselves with such diversions, even the dumbest among them surely knew that things would get much more challenging when they finally made contact with the Romulan Navy.

* * *

As for the Romulan Navy, or at least the 9th fleet, that fleet had flown deeply within the Klingon Empire in obedience to He'vrek's orders, avoiding contact with a number of Klingon patrols in the process, for although the Klingons lacked the Federation's enhanced sensor package, and thus lacked the ability to detect Romulan ships until they opened weapons fire, the Klingons were still making the effort, for one never knew… the cloaking device was a tricky piece of machinery, and the field itself required a great deal of fine tuning, and it was not impossible that crew error might throw off the cloaking device, just enough to reveal the presence of Romulan ships within the borders of the Klingon Empire.

And oh, how the Klingons prayed for a chance to close in combat with some Romulans just now, for the attack on Qo'noS had all but driven the warrior caste into a frenzy, and so they patrolled the empire relentlessly, on the off chance that they'd get the pleasure of closing ranks with the Romulans, in honorable combat.

None of that happened though, for the Romulan crews monitored their cloaking devices flawlessly - the stakes were too high for aught else, and so the Romulans and Klingons consistently passed each other in short order, and eventually the 9th reached Chi'Dan, a small planet which boasted a rich soil suitable for heavy agriculture, and it was at Chi'Dan that the 9th fleet split into six squadrons of 20 ships each, and one squadron of 30 ships, after which each squadron went their own way, for they each had elsewhere to be, namely: Khitomer, Narendra, Archanis, Mempis, Ty'Gokor, Archanis and Qo'noS… all heavily populated planets of strategic importance to the Klingon Empire, and all reasonably close to the Romulan/Klingon border.

* * *

It finally happened six days later, that the remnants of the Romulan fleets tasked with destroying the Federation, as well as the pursuing Federation fleet, passed Parsonis, and entered the boundaries of the Star Empire. Oh, the Romulan homeworlds were still distant, but for the first time, it was the Federation which was on the offensive. That counted for little just yet, for the entire Federation had seen the fighting spirit of the Romulan soldier, but it was still something to celebrate… cautiously.

And if the average Federation crewman was perhaps being overly optimistic, the Federation's officer cadre was not composed of fools, and each shift saw these officers collecting data and analyzing it quickly, all in order to pass it on to the fleet at large, so that the fleet might be ready for anything the Romulans would throw in its direction. Now it was just a matter of making contact with the enemy, defeating their will to fight, and then ramming a peace treaty down their collective throats… a thing easier said than done, no doubt.

Another ten days passed and an unexpected variable appeared, when Andorian scouts ranging far past the Federation fleet picked up 1,257 ships on their long range sensors, each ship displaying a Klingon warp signature. That fact was treated with a great deal of consternation, and some cautious optimism.

The entire reason the Romulans had withdrawn from Federation space was supposedly in order to deal with a Klingon betrayal… so far so good, for that would make the Klingons out to be Federation allies to some degree. Unless of course, that entire thing had been a ruse to lure the entirety of the Federation's ships to Romulan space, in order to be destroyed by a joint Romulan/Klingon fleet. That was a nightmare scenario, and not one not to be ignored. Still, if the Klingons were truly going for the Romulan's throats, there was no better way to ensure the Federation's safety than attack the Romulans as well... and after much debate, Admiral Forrest decided to press onward.

"Let the Klingons and the Romulans grapple with each other," thought Forrest, "while we come from the flanks and deliver the killing blow to the Romulan Navy."

* * *

As for the seven squadrons of the Romulan 9th fleet, five had already arrived at their appointed places and there awaited their orders, so that they might commence operations. Only the 6th squadron, headed for Archanis, and the 7th squadron, headed for Qo'noS, were still en route to their destination, but the other five squadrons were content to wait patiently, for discipline was one of the hallmarks of a Romulan warrior.


	69. Chapter 69

— **Chapter 69 —**

* * *

As Trip stepped onto Tek'Surron's Bridge he noted that the shift change, from night crew to day crew, had already occurred, and he saw T'Pol manning the Science station. Well, she'd asked to contribute to Tek'Surron's operations, as had her crewmen, and the workload aboard a starship placed ongoing demands on a ship's crew, and as such, extra hands were always welcome.

Sr-Lieutenant Telok, Trip's XO, had seen the captain step onto the Bridge, and in response Telok rose from the captain's chair, even as the captain approached him, while looking inquisitively at the Vulcan.

"All's well, Captain," said Telok, for the previous shift had gone smoothly.

"All right, XO," said Trip. "Get some sleep."

"Yes, Captain," said Telok, and with the Sr-Lieutenant's departure from the Bridge, the changeover was complete.

The rest of the day was occupied with ship's business for both Trip and T'Pol, as given T'Pol's training and experience Trip felt confident in leaving her in command of Tek'Surron in order to personally see to setting things right throughout the ship, for that job had no end. Eventually though, time ran out and the night shift began filing in to take the ship through the next cycle.

"That's it," said Trip, looking across the desk in the captain's Ready Room, towards T'Pol. "You're officially off the clock, T'Pol."

"What are you doing now?" said T'Pol.

"I'm going to hit the Mess hall for some food, then turn in for some sleep."

"May I join you for a bite to eat?" said T'Pol.

"Sure. Come on."

* * *

It was at Kerrighal 7, just a few light years into the Romulan Star Empire, that the Klingon armada made contact with the 5th & 6th Romulan fleets, or perhaps it would be more accurate to describe it the other way round, for it was the Romulans who reached out for first contact, announcing their presence to the Klingons by making a nose to tail flyby across the length of the Klingon armada.

The first the Klingons knew of it was when hundreds of Romulan ships opened fire as one as they uncloaked, and although the Romulan and Klingon ships moved too swiftly past each other for any of the Romulan ships to fire more than one weapons salvo, when 312 Romulan ships all unloaded on the same line of Klingon ships with both disruptor fire and plasma torpedo salvos, well, some two hundred Klingon ships were damaged to some degree,and 34 destroyed outright.

The nastiest aspect of all this, where the Klingons were concerned, was the stealthy and fast moving nature of this ambush, for of course, computers ran this attack out of necessity… two fleets, both moving towards each other at warp speed, they would only be within firing range for a very, very brief time, much too tight a parameter for organic beings to reliably calculate… computers though, computers could easily calculate all the variables involved in making such a pass work, and they did.

Satisfied with that one pass the Romulans kept going past the Klingon armada at best speed, refusing to fire back at the pursuing Klingons until their cloaking fields were operable once again… and then the Romulans disappeared, only to repeat the maneuver again, and again, from different vectors, vexing the Klingons greatly in the process, and bleeding them repeatedly, all while denying the Klingons the courtesy of a set piece battle.

That's not to say that the Klingons were sitting ducks, for after that first pass, they likewise relied upon their computers and automated targeting systems to counterattack almost immediately, so the Romulans suffered their own losses… but what favored the Romulans in this battle of attrition, was that they had the initiative, so most of the damage they suffered was milder, given that even as the Klingon ships returned fire the Romulans were speeding past the Klingon armada, and moreso, on the rare occasions that Klingon weapons inflicted fatal damage upon a Romulan ship, that ship plunged into Klingon formations at warp speeds, taking dozens of Klingon ships with it… though such actions had not been a feature of Romulan warfare in the past, it seemed that they'd learned something from Humans, when it came to making a last gesture of defiance.

Now the Klingons realized that battling the Romulans effectively was frankly impossible to do so long as the Romulans avoided open battle, and relied on stealth and cloaking fields, and so the Klingons did their best to absorb the damage while pushing forward at best speed to reach and destroy bases, shipyards, outposts and planets which were much too large to cloak. In doing so, the Klingons aimed to destroy the infrastructure which supported the Romulan war machine… star navies were complex mechanisms, and without infrastructure and the proper logistical support the Romulan Navy would eventually fail… and than of course everything changed for the Klingons, and better still if their armada could reach the Romulan homeworlds. Now the Romulans themselves were aware of all these things as well, and were also perfectly aware that such factors also applied to the Klingons themselves, thus He'vrek's mission for the 9th…

"Contact the 9th fleet," said He'vrek, from the captain's chair aboard his flagship, L'Evras, for the Praetor was personally commanding the 5th & 6th fleets in their attacks on the Klingon armada.

The tribune manning the Comm station affirmed his orders, and then put things in motion.

"Praetor," said D'srell, the 9th fleet's commander, upon eventually receiving his superior's transmission.

"Admiral," said He'vrek. "Tell me where you stand, in completing the mission I've given you."

"Six of seven squadrons report ready," said D'srell. "The last will be in position 78 hours from now."

He'vrek nodded, for he understood the limitations that the sheer vastness of space presented to the movement of warships, even with the benefit of modern warp engines.

"Wait no longer than that," said He'vrek. "If that squadron is not in position by then, act without its support."

"Understood, Praetor," said D'srell. "How stand things in the empire?"

"About as expected," said He'vrek. "The Kligons destroy everything they pass by, while we raid them around the clock. I dare not risk my ships in open combat against the current odds, unless the Klingons draw close to our homeworlds. In the meantime we'll do our best to whittle their numbers down considerably."

D'srell understood the way of it, and said, "And the Federation fleet?"

"Coming," said He'vrek, "and their ranks have been swelled to some degree by some late comers. Eventually, the 5th & 6th fleets will join with the remnants returning from the Alpha Quadrant, and we'll be fighting for our lives soon enough, Admiral. We'll have our hands full by any measure, so I expect you to take the Klingons out of the equation."

"Of course, Praetor," said D'srell, and with the He'vrek severed the comm stream.

* * *

Two days had passed, and Forrest's fleet had maintained its course for the Romulan homeworlds even as reinforcements streamed in.

The first reinforcements to reach the fleet were Andorian, followed shortly thereafter by Vulcan, as a function of their higher warp speed capabilities, while the Tellarite, Denobulan and Human ships would need another three days to catch up to Forrest's fleet, after which the fleet still had another ten day flight before reaching the Romulan homeworlds. For now, the fleet's senior officers spent their time wargaming various scenarios to prevail over the Romulans, all while monitoring the now running battle between the Klingons and the Romulans, courtesy of far ranging Andorian scouts which shadowed the battling fleets from a discreet distance.

Now to his credit, Forrest had reached out to the Klingon fleet, bidding for alliance, but his transmissions were ignored. Typical, according to what he'd been told by both Andorians, and Vulcans… the Klingons tended to ignore one, until they decided they wanted something you possessed and then you had to fight for it, or you angered them and then you had to fight them over the issue.

"Still," thought Forrest, "a shame we can't join forces with the Klingons."

* * *

"Sir!" said one of the Klingon techs monitoring the flow of comm traffic through the planetary defense forces surrounding Qo'noS.

"What is it?" said Bo'hok, the man in command of this particular Situation Room.

"I am picking up a Romulan transmission. They are reaching out to us."

Though such contact was unexpected, the computer subroutines which handled comm traffic had recognized the importance of this transmission, and routed the stream to the most appropriate place available to accept that transmission.

Bo'hok eyed the tech, and said, "I'll try to keep the Romulan talking long enough for you to triangulate their position. Once you have their location, alert Admiral Kolos of that fact, and perhaps our defense fleet can intercept that Romulan ship."

"Yes, sir," said the Klingon tech, and with that he flipped a switch, and a Romulan face popped up on the large video monitor in the Situation Room.

"What do you want, Romulan?" said Bo'hok, looking up from the tech's workstation, and up at the monitor.

"I wish to address your High Council, Klingon," said D'srell.

Bo'hok almost blew his top at that, for half the High Council had been killed in the Romulan attack on Qo'noS, but he would not give the Romulan the pleasure of seeing his anger.

"And why would the High Council wish to speak with filth like you, Romulan?" said Bo'hok. "You'll have to explain that to me now, before I pass you on to anyon—"

"Don't waste your time, Klingon," said D'srell. "I'm three hours flight time from Qo'noS - long before your ships can reach my location, I'll be cloaked, and gone. Now, put me in touch with someone in authority, or you'll be responsible for what happens next."

"And what will happen next?" said Bo'hok.

"Many millions of Klingon lives will be snuffed out. Last chance to connect me with someone worthy of my time. I won't ask again."

"Hold," said Bo'hok, unwilling to take the chance that the Romulan was simply bluffing.

Moments later, D'srell's comm stream was forwarded to the High Council's new quarters, miles beneath the ground in a military base far outside the now ravaged First City of Qo'noS.

Of the eleven councilors which formerly made up the Klingon High Council, five still lived, while the rest were killed in the nuclear attack on Qo'noS. Two councilors were with the Klingon armada, while Molor, Kargan and Krell remained on Qo'noS to handle the Empire's business, such as it was, and it was these three councilors which received the Romulan's comm stream.

"Speak," said Kargan, looking at D'srell's image on the video monitor.

"On Praetor He'vrek's orders, I request and require that you recall your armada back to Khitomer. That is now your new border with the Star Empire, as payback for your treachery in breaking faith with us, and violating our agreement."

All three High Councilors began laughing at the Romulan's outrageous demand, for redrawing the borders just so would leave dozens of Klingon worlds in Romulan hands… it was an outrageous demand!

D'srell watched the Klingons laugh for a bit, feeling nothing but contempt for these uncouth barbarians…

"Are you finished?" said D'srell, finally.

The Klingons laughed a bit longer, just to make their point, then Molor said, "Speak your bit, Romulan."

"As I said, I ask that you recall your armada," said D'srell. "Now."

"And why would we do that?" said Molor.

"Because if you don't, we'll hit Qo'noS with atomics once again, as well as six more major planets," said D'srell. "And I don't mean that we'll hit them at some time in the distant future. We'll hit them within an hour after we conclude our conversation, and then we'll move on to another seven planets, and then another seven, and so on, and so on. All major planets, all heavily industrialized, all important to your empire. If it becomes clear that you can not protect your member worlds, well, I hesitate to think of the repercussions that will have on your empire."

Molor almost flinched at that, for his dream of gain and glory through this war with the Star Empire was turning into a nightmare... but it wasn't his fault! The Romulan cloaking devices had been nowhere as effective in past engagements with the Romulans, and that's all the Snakes had going for them! Surely if the Klingon armada could simply reach the Romuland homeworlds...

"You're bluffing," said Molor. "And even if you're not bluffing, we've killed the previous squadron which attacked Qo'noS."

"At what cost, Klingon?" said D'srell, and he could tell that he'd struck home with the point: it would take the Klingons a few centuries to rebuild Qo'noS.

Still the Klingons said nothing.

"Have it your way," said D'srell, certain that the Klingons would be willing to negotiate after the 9th fleet razed the first seven planets, or the next seven, or the next.

"Wait!" said Kargan. "We will recall our armada."

"We can't do that!" said Molor, whose entire political future rode on the success of the armada's invasion of Romulan space. "We are but days from victory!"

D'srell merely waited for the Klingons to sort this matter out amongst themselves.

"We will recall the armada," said Krell, the third High Councilor here.

"Traitor!" said Molor, turning on Krell like a viper. "You're a traitor to your people, Krell!"

A movement from his left side drew Molor's attention, but not in time to prevent Kargan's dagger from piercing his side, and Molor screamed, in pain, and rage.

"All our dead are on your head, Molor!" said Kargan.

Molor might have replied, but Krell's blade now penetrated Molor's stomach, and ripped upward, disemboweling Molor, even as Molor breathed his last.

The Klingon guards watching the entire spectacle had stood motionless the entire time... their duty was to protect the High Council members, true, but all of Qo'noS was aware of Molor's role in breaking their original agreement with the Romulans, for Molor himself had made much of it in anticipation of a successful campaign, lest another steal his glory... what's more, Molor had been killed by fellow High Council members, and as things stood, the guards were willing to abide Kargan's and Krell's conduct, for really, what was their option? Cripple the remnants of the High Council for a fool like Molor? No.

"The recall transmission will go out within the next ten minutes, Romulan," said Kargan, "and our ships will pull back to Khitomer."

"Much obliged," said D'srell. "Until that happens, and all your ships are behind that line, my own ships will remain within the Klingon Empire. Given the fact that your people broke faith with our last agreement, I'm sure you understand."


	70. Chapter 70

— **Chapter 70 —**

* * *

"Admiral," said Archer, the captain's voice transmitted to the conference room which had become Forrest's office, when the admiral had taken Enterprise as his flagship for the duration of this mission.

"Yes, Jon?"

"You need to see something, sir," said Archer.

Moments later Forrest stepped onto Enterprise's Bridge, to view a starmap of a distant system, with more than a thousand shipsigns displayed on the Bridge monitor.

"What is this?" said Forrest.

"You're looking at the sensor telemetry being transmitted to the fleet by the Andorian reconnaissance patrols," said Jon.

"What the hell?" said Forrest, studying the screen closely, as the two sides, Klingon and Romulan, separated without trading any weapons fire.

"The Klingons are heading for home, Admiral," said Archer. "A few hundred of their ships have already warped out, and I'm guessing the rest will follow as soon as they separate from the Romulan fleet."

"Oh, fuck me," said Forrest, for every Romulan ship destroyed by the Klingons was one less enemy for the Federation fleet to deal with later. "I wonder what happened…"

"My guess, some kind of negotiated solution, Admiral," said Archer. "What else could it be?"

Forrest said nothing, frustrated by this latest development… and as news of this development spread through the Federation fleet, a sense of grim determination settled in the hearts of all, for there were but two options now, both unpalatable: the first option was to fall back to Federation space and await in uncertainty for the Romulans to resume their games. The second option was to finish it here and wring a peace treaty from the Romulans, but the butcher's bill would run high in taking that route.

Nonetheless, it was the second choice which every species of the Federation fleet endorsed here, for none of them wanted to return to the Alpha Quadrant, only to have to deal with the bleeding sore of Romulan attacks in perpetuity… better to roll the dice here, as they saw things, and gamble on victory.

With that decision made, 679 Federation ships maintained their course for the Romulan homeworlds… ahead of the Federation fleet, the Romulan Alpha Quadrant fleets would soon join with the 5th & 6th fleets, as well as some of the small Romulan in-system patrol ships, in order to present a united front of 971 Romulan ships to the invading Federation force.

* * *

The first major clash between Federation and Romulan forces had taken place at Vulcan, and now, the second major clash was about to occur at Sezza 5, just outside the Romulan star system.

There were a number of ways for the Federation to play this out, from a series of running skirmishes which could stretch out for days or weeks, to a set piece battle which would settle the issue in a matter of hours… and after some debate this was the option which was agreed upon, for Aethon had put forward a tactical plan for battle which had won the greatest number of adherents… and so, the Federation fleet waited calmly, already in formation as the massed Romulan fleet arrived in-system, immediately dropping out of warp at a distance and approaching the Federation fleet at low impulse speed in order to study their opponent's dispositions.

To Romulan eyes it seemed that the Federation intended to wage a battle of attrition through a repeated exchange of weapon salvos, and that suited the Romulans just fine, for it was preferable to dealing with the nasty Andorian tactic of filtering through Romulan ranks and conducting the weapons exchanges at point blank range. No, this was far better, and after first sounding out the entire system with sensor scans to make certain that the Federation had planned no surprises, the Romulans approached the Federation fleet, and matched their opponents formation, a line some 90 miles wide, 20 miles high, which allowed for room to maneuver, while still presenting a cohesive front.

The Andorians held the right flank for the Federation, the Vulcans the left, while the Humans, Denobulans and Tellarites held the center of the line, though they apparently couldn't even assemble properly as the Romulans saw things, for their ships were pressed forward into something of a convex curve towards the Romulan line, pushed somewhat ahead of the Andorian and Vulcan wings.

That was a mistake as the Romulans saw things, placing the Federation's weakest ships in the center… break that center, and you break the fleet, and win the battle. Clearly, the Federation had fenced in their most unreliable crews and ships between the Vulcan and Andorian wings, in order to keep them from fleeing the battle… and that was encouraging as well, for it meant the Federation fleet was not truly united as one in making a stand here, and would thus break apart all the quicker for that fact, once the center was shattered.

And so the battle began and the Romulans pressed their attack ferociously at that point, purposely aiming to fragment and destroy the center, but to their credit the Human/Tellarite/Denobulan ships fought quite doggedly. They retreated, yes, but they fought viciously for every foot of ground, figuratively speaking… still, they gave way, and the Romulans pressed forward eagerly in the center, meaning to break the line in short order.

And it was here that the Romulans made a fatal mistake, though they would not be aware of it for another hour, but just as Aethon had planned, as the Romulans rushed in to break the center, their formations became more tightly packed, for the Vulcan and Andorian ships were not giving way in the least, and as the Romulans kept pushing the slowly retreating Humans, Denobulans and Tellarites, the Romulans inadvertently pushed their way into a sack of sorts, surrounded on three sides by Federation ships… and by the time they discovered their mistake it was too late to remedy the situation.

Now pressed together more than they would have chosen, the Romulan's own ships hindered their lines of fire for the majority of them, all while the Federation freely poured weapons fire into the tightly packed Romulan formation with reckless abandon, and as a capstone to it all, a mix of Vulcan and Andoria ships slipped in behind the Romulans, boxing them in now on all sides. The end result could be nothing but defeat.

Yet even trapped and dying, the Romulans did not go quietly, with those ships on the fringes fighting the Federation quite ably, and using their dying ships to pummel the Federation lines in suicidal maneuvers which took out dozens of Federation ships at a time, even as the Federation ships returned the favor in their turn, and the results of all that were predictable… nine hours later, both fleets were a shambles, though in view of the Federation's tactical advantages, they had the best of it, with some 180 ships destroyed and the rest of them damaged to a lessor or greater degree. As for the Romulans, they lost 679 ships and the rest were badly damaged, and although both sides were exhausted, the battle would have continued to a fitting finale save for the fact that Federation sensors saw a number of Romulans ships drawing closer… this was unexpected, but the Romulans had stripped the many garrisons spread throughout their empire of a good number of ships, in order to defend the Romulan homeworlds, and these ships were finally drawing close, after weeks of flight time.

And so, quite bitterly, the Federation's command structure realized they'd have no final victory this day, no closure to any of this, and the majority of Federation ships continued pounding the Romulan fleet as eighty Federation ships conducted rescue operations. Hours later, all of the crippled Federation ships had been evacuated and then destroyed, and with that the Federation fleet departed Romulan space just ahead of the first of the Romulan relief forces, for although such garrison forces were generally composed of older ships and second rate crews compared to the front line fleets, the Federation fleet was simply in no condition to deal with even such 2nd stringers at the moment, and thus ended the second major battle action between the Federation and the Star Empire.

* * *

The journey back to Federation space was no breeze either, for although the Andorians fought off a few squadrons of Romulan garrison ships in a rear guard action, most of the Federation's ships were damaged and undergoing repairs on the move, even as most of them were packed with crewmen rescued from the ships lost back at Sezza 5, which strained the life support systems, the kitchens, the medical crews, and so on.

Aboard Tek'Surron things went fairly well, given that both the ship's Chief Engineer and its Captain were in their element when it came to repairing battle damage, and it was to this end that Trip moved through the ship, cataloging Tek'Surron's damage, and prioritizing the repairs, which eventually took him to Tek'Surron's lowest decks.

Notably, Decks 2 and 3 were used for long term storage, food, uniforms, engine parts, extra ordinance, etc… while the lowest, Deck 1, held the low tech machinery which heated water for the crew's use, distilled water for drinking, dealt with the crew's bodily waste, as well as a ship's incinerator in which the ship's garbage was consumed, and given the nature of these decks, they were generally sparsely populated, which was a actually a relief from the now overcrowded upper decks, but it was while Trip was down here, that things took a nasty turn…

* * *

Trip was on Deck 3 at the time, in one of the large stock rooms which held some of the large spare components needed to rebuild a ship's critical systems such as engines and life support, for every ship in the Federation fleet was pooling their resources, donating critical components which they could spare to aid other ships in the fleet and Trip wanted to make certain that it was all in good shape before offering any of these materials to the fleet.

It took Trip a few moments to orient himself in this place, and while he was doing so Votak and T'erisse drew close, an assortment of machinery stacked atop their powered cart.

"Captain," said Votak, and T'erisse gave Trip a dip of the head.

"Everything all right?" said Trip, his eyes running over Votak's selections.

Votak was Engineering, T'erisse was Medical, and the equipment they'd pulled was all Medical. Trip knew that Medical had taken some damage, and the two were clearly doing their part to square things.

"Yes, Captain," said Votak.

"All right. Carry on," said Trip, leaving them to their task, and moving deeper into the stock room.

Eventually Trip found the stacked components he was interested in, and in the process of getting a handle on things he climbed some 14 feet atop the stack, in search of the RFID tags which marked each box and were not so easily read from the deck. Just then a chime sounded, drawing Trip's attention, for every one of Tek'Surron's crewmen had automatic access to this part of the ship - there was no need to sound a chime and request admission, for any of them to enter these decks.

"Maybe the damned door's malfunctioning," thought Trip, debating whether he should crawl down in order to grant access, or just let someone else deal with it.

Fortunately, Votak and T'erisse were closer and what's more they were on their way out, so they reached the door on the fourth chime, as Trip watched idly just to make sure the door would at least open properly. A moment later the door slid aside, and three Vulcans stood at the door in StarFleet's coverall uniforms - and now it all made sense. These Vulcans were either T'Pol's crewmen, or some of the rescues which Tek'Surron had taken aboard after the final battle with the Romulans… in either case, they weren't Tek'Suron's crew, and thus they were limited from accessing certain parts of the ship, which explained the door's 'malfunction'.

"…want to speak to the captain," said one of the Vulcans, and Trip began listened to their conversation with an idle curiosity, though he could barely her their voices at this distance. "We were told that he is down here, and we want to offer our services to aid Tek'Surron's crew."

A few words from T'erisse, too faint to make out, and then Votak's voice: "I am certain that your help will be appreciated, but contact the Bridge. They will have a roster of posts to fill. I am certain that they will find a place for you all, but the captain can not do that from down here."

"I understand," said the Vulcan nearest Votak.

"We appreciate your help," said another, drawing Votak's attention with a hand gesture, even as the Vulcan nearest Votak lunged for him, grabbed hold of Votak and pulled him in, and onto the knife's blade held in the Vulcan's… Romulan's fist!

At that same instant, another Romulan lunged for T'erisse, breaking her neck before Votak even hit the ground. Trip was stunned at so unexpected an action, so smoothly done, so viciously performed.

"Solffei adrat, Mizzan," said the Romulan who'd killed T'erisse, looking at the one Romulan who killed no one: 'Secure this door, Mizzan."

"Ja'tarr," said Mizzan: 'I will.'

Trip understood none of that, for the Romulan tongue had drifted considerably from the Vulcan language over the centuries since the Romulans had left Vulcan, and it had evolved into a distinct dialect, or perhaps it had even evolved into another language by now… but what Trip now saw was that one Romulan pulled out a phaser, while the other wiped his knife of Votak's blood but retained the blade, and as two of the Romulans began walking deeper into Deck 3, the third remained behind to secure the door and keep him from escaping, and Trip clearly understood that he was in some seriously deep shit now.

* * *

***In the interest of full disclosure, the Federation's tactics against the Romulans were not mine - I ripped them off from the Battle of Cannae, where Hannibal used that tactic against the Roman legions, and in the process Hannibal accomplished something which should frankly be impossible - he surrounded a force nearly twice the size of his own army, and killed off the vast majority of it.

Hannibal was a very interesting figure who spent some 15 years waging war on Rome in Italy, always outnumbered, always facing better armed and trained soldiers than his own, yet not only did he soundly defeat them in battle on many occasions, he also often stood off 3 or 4 armies simultaneously by means of marches and maneuvers every bit as brilliant as his battlefield victories. Feinting, dodging, sometimes narrowly avoiding encirclement, he wore out a succession of Roman generals and finally left Italy of his own volition and with his remaining force intact.


	71. Chapter 71

— **Chapter 71 —**

* * *

Back in her cabin, T'Pol tossed and turned in her sleep.

She'd not slept the past three nights, since before the battle at Sezza 5, working straight through with only a few breaks for meditation, but even Vulcan endurance had its limits, and earlier this evening she'd gone to SickBay and asked the doctor for a strong sedative... but something interfered with her sleep now.

* * *

Trip slid carefully off the boxes atop of which he'd been perched, functioning on auto pilot now.

The two Romulans were working their way through the deck now, and Trip knew that they'd reach his location soon enough… but he still had time. He needed to make his way down to Deck 2 and contact ship's security to save his ass. Trouble was, the way the decks were structured, with but one central hallway, he'd need a bit of luck to make his to Deck 2's hatch unseen, but it's not like he had a ton of options here.

Moving slowly, Trip peeked around a high stack of spare refrigeration units… he saw the Romulan on guard duty at the door, quite some distance away, but didn't see the two others. From his angle, Deck 2's hatch was visible some sixty feet away, and after a last glance at the guard to the back, Trip ran for the hatch. The main corridor on every deck was fairly wide, some 30 feet, and that in order to accommodate the movement of heavy machinery and people, and unfortunately the entire deck was well lit.

A few moments after beginning his run, Trip heard a whistle, and knew that he'd been spotted. The guard manning the door fired two phaser shots at Trip, and fortunately missed with both, then stopped firing for some reason. Upon reaching the hatch, Trip turned to see that the two Romulans formerly searching for him in the stacks had made the main corridor, and by the time Trip had closed the hatch, he'd seen them running at full speed for his location.

"Damn!" said Trip, just after lowering the hatch door and sliding the manual lock hammer in place, to secure that hatch.

Trip slid down the steel ladder which saw him set foot on Deck 2, then moved quickly, for he knew that he wouldn't have much time…

His first instinct was to contact Security, and frustratingly, that came to nothing: the Romulans, having come here to kill him had thought to sever the comm lines between these lower decks and the rest of the ship. Even in the best of times, such a lapse could go unnoticed for hours, or even days, but now, with all the other major repairs to be handled aboard Tek'Surron, the comm lines here were of no importance.

A slight click, followed by another, told Trip that the Romulans were trying to pry the hatch open, and he knew that he was running out of time even though that hatch was made of high-tensile steel, for the Romulans had repeatedly proven their competence.

* * *

T'Pol whimpered in her sleep, and tossed even harder now, caught in the clutches of a nightmare.

She was on a ship, clearly of Vulcan manufacture, and she was running through the ship, pursued by something fierce, something menacing, something ruthless. She didn't quite know what she was running from, but her heart was beating like a drum, even as she slid down a metal ladder after first securing a hatch, and now, as she looked up, she heard the hatch clicking as it made minute movements… something was trying to pry the hatch, trying to reach her, trying to kill her!

T'Pol moaned and thrashed, her body covered in sweat now, her mind struggling for consciousness, struggling to overcome the effects of the sedative still flowing through her blood stream.

* * *

Thinking quickly, Trip jerked open the two foot high door to an instrument panel - his first instinct was to cause a mechanical emergency here, on Deck 1 or Deck 2, an emergency which would require that someone attend to the matter with due haste. He could do that easily from here, but if he did that, one or more engineers would respond to that summons… and they'd be killed by the Romulan at the door, or by the others. Nothing he could do from here would require more than a couple of engineers, nor would anything he did here draw Security… and Trip would not call his people here to be killed.

"All right, you mother fuckers," said Trip, looking up at the hatch, "I guess I'm stuck with you."

The brief shrill whine of a phaser sounded three times in a row, and Trip ignored the sound, in order to run his fingers over the instrument panel. The hatch clicked even as Trip worked, and then the phaser sounded three more times, then three more, then four more. Just then Trip finished his work, and Decks 1 and 2 were plunged in relative darkness, illumination on these decks reduced by 94% - now Decks 1 and 2 were shrouded in shadow and darkness with a few patches of low lighting coming from 6 lights on each huge deck, which normally ran on 100 lights.

See, the Vulcan eye was superbly adapted for bright light, natural enough for a species which evolved in a trinary, three sun, star system. In brightly lit conditions in which a Human would be desperately squinting, a Vulcan could gaze about wide-eyed. Most of that was due to an inner, semi-transparent lid which regulated light entering the inner eye, as well as providing a polarizing effect, thus making objects in bright light appear more distinct. The downside of such ocular specialization was that the Vulcan eye was not as capable in low light as the Human eye, and given that Romulans were essentially Vulcans, genetically speaking, Trip was willing to gamble that these conditions, the barest minimum light in which he could function effectively, would give him and edge in the coming battle for his life against the Romulans.

The Romulans pulled on the hatch once more, and as expected, the repeated energy discharges from the phaser into the hatch had superheated the metal, and softened it. The hatch groaned as the restraint bar bent and stretched a bit, and the hatch opened a few inches… not enough to matter yet, but more than enough for the Romulans to see and target the restraint bar which secured the hatch. The phaser began firing once more, this time at the much thinner bar, and Trip realized it was time to move. He dropped a few of the components which he'd removed from the panel to the ground, then stepped on them, ensuring that the Romulans would be unable to restore lighting. With that task accomplished, Trip fled the hatch.

Fate apparently favored him, for two isles down Trip saw a 3 foot dura-steel crowbar resting on a box… and unlike the old school all-steel type crowbars of the past, the stronger steel allowed for a skeletonized form, barely three pounds in weight. Quite a find, and with that bar in hand Trip found a proper place to climb aboard some crates, and from that perch, Trip waited patiently… and nervously.

It took the Romulans a few more phaser shots to soften the steel enough to break, and with a metallic clang the restraint bar broke and the hatch popped open, and then a sharp thud from above told Trip that the Romulans had used a steel spar as a lever, which they'd just now discarded… and with that, the Romulans gained access to Deck 2.

* * *

T'Pol was frozen into immobility now, in a place so poorly lit that she struggled to see her surroundings, but all she could tell was that she was perched atop some wooden crates, in what looked like a warehouse, or a ship's hold… that was it, she was on a ship, so this was one of the ship's storage decks.

Suddenly her attention was drawn by two men, two Vulcans… and they each carried a weapon in the left hand, a penlight in the right, and that was unusual enough to draw her attention, and more so these Vulcans were speaking an alien tongue in low measured tones, yet nevertheless, a few of their words seemed to convey a hint of Old Vulcan.

"Romulans!" thought T'Pol, muscles tensed now, then purposely relaxed in preparation for action: not a physiological sequence she'd normally partake in, for she was a trained operative, always ready, always focused… that sequence seemed more fitting for Human psychology.

And still a part of her struggled to make sense of this dream. Vulcans rarely dreamed, but that had all changed for T'Pol after Bonding Trip, and vivid dreams had become a frequent occurrence for the Vulcan… but even as such dreams went, this one was a killer.

* * *

The Romulans moved through Deck 2's central corridor as methodically as possible given the cursed darkness, each taking one side of the deck, both taking turns walking among the stacks of various items, disappearing for a bit, then coming back to rejoin the other, drawing closer to Trip with each step, and when they'd drawn close enough for Trip to make his play, Trip tossed a Tefram coupler back towards the hatch. It impacted on a box somewhere, and fell to the ground, making for two distinct sounds.

The Romulans faced each other, and the one holding the phaser nodded his head towards the noise, and at that unspoken command, the knife wielder ran back towards the stacks to investigate the noise, his partner looking back towards his man, ready to aid him, if their quarry was truly back there... and it was at that moment that Trip jumped down from the stack towards the Romulan.

The Romulan heard some part of Trip's movement, for even as Trip jumped, the Romulan lifted his phaser and fired, an instant before Trip's crowbar came crashing down on his head. The pain Trip felt as the phaser bolt winged him would have caused the man to scream, were he not so completely focused on making his strike: and it was an effective strike. The Romulan's head was literally deformed by the impact, the skull crushed by the force of impact, the Romulan dead.

An instant later, when Trip looked up, he saw that the knife wielding Romulan was uncomfortably close, and coming fast. Trip spun, and rushed for the hatch on Deck 1. That entire exchange was a mixed bag, for although the knife wielder didn't stop to search the darkness for his partner's phaser, Trip was unable to close the hatch - the tip of the restraining bar was bent, and apparently, no one had thought the matter important enough to mention to either Maintenance, or Engineering. Wonderful…

* * *

Meanwhile, at the precise instant in which Trip had been winged by that phaser shot, T'Pol shot up in her bed with a literal scream!

She touched her side, recalled her dream, and dressed quickly. It was illogical to act so, yes, but the dream truly shook the Vulcan, so she rushed for Trip's quarters and began pressing the buzzer to Trip's cabin quite insistently. No answer. Heading back to her quarters, T'Pol contacted the Bridge.

"Bridge," said Tek'Surron's XO, Sr-Lieutenant Telok.

"T'Pol here. Is the captain in his Ready Room?"

"No, sir, he's doing a ship inspection. Been working at it for hours. Give me a moment to locate him," said Telok, checking with the ship's computer. "The captain in on Deck 1 at the moment, sir."

And with that explanation, the tension which T'Pol felt should have vanished, but didn't, for she had a sudden insight into the nature of her dream.

"XO, I need a favor," said T'Pol. "This is probably nothing, but I need two men from Security to accompany me to Deck 1. Make sure they're armed."

"Sir? What is going on?" said Telok.

"Probably nothing, XO, but just in case. I do not have time to explain."

"Will do," said Telok, his trust in a fellow Vulcan officer sufficient to forestall Telok's questions, for now. "Your turbo-lift will halt at Deck 5. From there you have to take stairs down to the lower decks. A security team of two, as requested, will meet you there. Please do not move ahead without them if you are expecting trouble. And I need to know what is happening as soon as possible."

"Will do, XO," said T'Pol. "Thank you."

And with that T'Pol reached Deck 5, almost fidgeting the 3.4 minutes that it took for the turbo lift to deliver two Vulcan security officers, all armed with rifles.

"Captain, I am Vissek," said one of the armed Vulcans. "We await your orders."

"The computer tells us that Captain Tucker is on Deck 1," said T'Pol. "We will find him now."

"Yes, Captain," said Vissek. "What kind of trouble are we expecting."

"I can not say," said T'Pol, "but be vigilant. Most likely, we will find nothing amiss, but if we run into trouble—"

"We will be ready, sir," said Vissek.

And run into trouble they did. The hatch to Deck 3 was locked, which meant that someone from within had locked it.

"Options," said T'Pol.

"We blow it, sir," said Vissek.

"How long to set things up?" said T'Pol.

"Four minutes, sir."

Anxious, although not showing it, T'Pol said, "All right."

True to his word, Vissek spoke with another member of Security, and 4.2 minutes later a third Vulcan joined the squad, a bag tossed over his shoulder. Without the need for words, the Vulcans placed a number of charges at a number of critical points on the hatch, then Vissek nodded towards T'Pol.

"Ready, sir."

"Go," said T'Pol.

* * *

Trip had spent this time on Deck 1, playing a dangerous game of hide & seek with the Romulan. The darkness was his edge here, and Trip also opened a number of valves as well, releasing steam from the huge water heating system… that created some ambient noise to hopefully conceal the sounds of his movements from the Romulan, though such things could work against him as well.

And with that, a dangerous game of cat and mouse began, for although Trip's side hurt like hell, there were no options here, no help… he had to go through this Romulan, and the one guarding the hatch on Deck 3, if he wanted to live.

* * *

The blast which blew the hatch to Deck 3 was precisely focused, shattering the hatch effectively. An instant later the first man of Vissek's team slid down the ladder, followed by Vissek, T'Pol, and the last member of the team. Almost immediately they came under fire. The last member of the team was the first to be shot by the Romulan's phaser pistol. Vissek and his partner laid down a stream of suppressive fire, moving towards the shooter while making use of cover and concealment, but they were too focused on the Romulan to notice T'Pol slip away, towards the hatch to Deck 2... as a bonus though, the Romulan was also focused on Vissek and his partner, and thus T'Pol avoided being shot in the back.

Stepping down onto Deck 2 T'Pol was instantly surrounded by darkness, but she had a hunch that was her mate's doing, and so she moved cautiously through Deck 2, eventually coming across the Romulan which Trip had killed earlier. Cautiously, but quickly, T'Pol moved for the hatch to Deck 1.

* * *

Meanwhile, Trip moved through Deck 1 in search of the Romulan - it would have been much safer to simply stay away from that bastard, but that was not an option… and it was an unpleasant surprise, when the Romulan lunged out at Trip from a well of darkness between two huge water storage tanks. Trip moved, tried to avoid him, but the Romulan was too fast, too strong, and landed a front kick to Trip's side which knocked the man down, and separated him from his crowbar. Trip spun almost the moment he landed to regain his footing, but to his surprise, the Romulan hadn't moved to approach him. He had however, picked up the crowbar, and now flung it atop a water tank, with a nasty grin on his face. That weapon was gone.

With that, the Romulan spoke in perfect English: "It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Tucker. I've been waiting for our paths to cross, with a great eagerness."

"I wish I could say the same," said Trip, on his feet now, as his hands hung casually to his sides, though his left hand was actually working to discreetly reach for a pen in his coveralls pocket: it wasn't a phaser, but it was a small stainless steel tube with a somewhat sharp point, and it had some useful applications, even here. "To what do I owe this visit?"

The Romulan laughed, and Trip couldn't help being somewhat disconcerted at seeing such blatant emotions displayed on a face which seemed entirely Vulcan. It just seemed so damned odd.

"Why, you were the creator of the Uzh Palik as a weapons platform," said the Romulan, drawing closer. "We found that out during our time with StarFleet. Uzh Palik was a nasty surprise, and it cost us the battle for Vulcan. Once Tek'Surron rescued us, and we discovered the identity of its captain, well, we had to pay you a visit."

Trip nodded, though he was nervous now, for the Romulan was approaching him with blade in hand.

"He means to chop me into mincemeat," thought Trip, noting the other's composure, his coiled readiness, and with that Trip accepted the fact that he might just be screwed, and this might well be his last dance.

"I'd ask you if we can make a deal," said Trip, "but you Romulans seem quite headstrong."

"We are," said the Romulan, moving in on Trip.

They each moved for advantage then, their moves controlled, as each tested the other's reactions and instinctive reactions, and eventually the Romulan pressed Trip, closing with him… Trip took two cuts in the process, and he got he distinct impression that the Romulan was playing with him, that impression modified by the fact that he'd stabbed the Romulan deeply in the right forearm during their melee - unfortunately, the bastard was a lefty, and the knife was still held securely by the Romulan's left hand.

"Ouch!" said the Romulan, humoring Trip: he was an Imperial Marine - that shallow stab was nothing to him.

"We have a saying on Earth," said Trip. "The pen is mightier than the sword."

"Well, we're about to find out if that's true, Captain Tucker."

The Romulan pressed the attack now, and took two more of Trip's stabs in return for cutting Trip's leg and stabbing the man's shoulder.

"You're good," said Trip, in a grim tone: he was indeed screwed, for it was now clear to Trip that the Romulan was playing with him.

"The best," said the Romulan, then moved in again, and to his surprise the Human did well enough: he avoided his attacks, even swept him off his feet, so the Human had some training, but not enough… this was only amusement, but eventually the game would lose it's charm, and the Human, his life.

And just as the Romulan readied to move in on the Human once more, he spun around, for he'd heard something, or sensed something coming from behind - and the Romulan spun just in time to catch T'Pol's backfist across the side of his face… she'd intended to go for a Vulcan neck pinch, as she was unarmed, but this damned Romulan was too damned canny.

T'Pol made brief eye contact with her mate here, and the man nodded slightly, though T'Pol felt his displeasure at seeing her here, his belief that the Romulan would kill them both… but even with that, when T'Pol moved to close with the Romulan, Trip moved as well - they'd work this Romulan together, and they'd die together, but sometimes life sucked, and you had to take it as it came.

And now, the Romulan fought in earnest, for although he held a decisive advantage over Trip, or T'Pol, his advantage vanished when facing them both, most especially given that they were Bonded, and thus fought as one… each sensing the other's intentions, and timing, each doing their part to win, for with victory came life.

The Romulan rushed T'Pol, and cut her face, slammed the hilt of his knife in her forehead on the pullback, then took a kick in the back from Trip, which disrupted his attack on the Vulcan… he lunged for Trip the man dancing, blocking and retreating, while his mate threatened the Romulan's side. In the end, although this dance lasted for some twelve minutes, it ended suddenly when T'Pol closed with the Romulan and pressed him to the wall momentarily, just long enough for her mate, who'd sensed her intentions, to drive the metal pen he'd been using through the Romulan's right temple, killing him immediately. That she'd sheathed the Romulan's blade in her own body in the process, that was of no consequence to T'Pol - at least her mate was safe.

Just then, just as T'Pol lost consciousness and Trip debated between leaving her here to seek help, or remaining in order to press tightly on her wound, Vissek and his partner made the scene - they'd killed their Romulan, though the side of Vissek's face was singed, and his right eye damaged beyond repair. Vissek looked at his partner, and that Vulcan spun to run for Deck 4, from where he'd be able to reach out to Medical, even as Trip and Vissek held a lonely vigil over T'Pol.


	72. Chapter 72

— **Chapter 72 —**

* * *

T'Pol moaned softly, and opened her eyes. To her surprise, she found herself in a hospital room, clearly back on Vulcan if the view outside her hospital room window was to be believed. That in itself was surprising, but more so was seeing T'Fel approaching her bedside, a pleasant expression on her face.

"Good morning, T'Pol."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "How long?"

"The fleet returned to Vulcan three days ago, and we were all overcome with joy at its return, despite the numerous losses," said T'Fel. "It was a properly controlled joy, but it was still a joyful occasion."

"How is Trip?" said T'Pol. "Was he hurt by the Romulan?"

"He is well, T'Pol," said T'Fel, sitting on T'Pol's bed. "He's gone to pick up T'Les. The old girl slipped and hurt her shoulder recently, and she can't drive well, so Trip drives her around - he says that he's 'Driving Ms. Daisy', whatever that means. They will be here soon enough."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "If you intend to kill me now, T'Fel, I must warn you that this hospital surely has cameras to monitor the comings and goings of its healers, its patients, and its visitors."

T'Fel gave a slight chuckle at that, and T'Pol clearly saw what Trip found so attractive about T'Fel - there was a sweetness in her, a lightness to her that was not typically Vulcan, and it was captivating...

"Hasha," thought T'Pol, naming one of Vulcan's Old Gods, "she's cast her spell on me now!"

"Why would I kill my t'hy'la's mate, T'Pol? That would be illogical."

"Do not play games with me, T'Fel," said T'Pol. "You are more his mate than I."

"Actually, upon your return, I've had a talk with Trip," said T'Fel.

T'Pol heart raced at that… had T'Fel truly done as Trip had suggested, and released him willingly?

"I have convinced him that a Vulcan Bond deserves a proper chance, T'Pol," said T'Fel, and with that she wiped T'Pol's cheeks: it was only then that T'Pol realized that she was crying.

"And he agreed?" said T'Pol.

"My logic was inescapable, T'Pol," said T'Fel.

"I do not want his grudging acceptance, T'Fel," said T'Pol.

"Oh, stop with the histrionics, T'Pol, you are a Vulcan," said T'Fel, smiling down on T'Pol, and though her smile was slight, it was still an unusually demonstrative gesture, all things considered. "Do not make a fool of me. You will take this chance which you have been given, you will grab it with both hands, and you will make something of it, you understand?"

T'Pol nodded wearily, knowing that T'Fel was right… she'd try, no matter what.

"Still," said T'Pol, "he must be disappointed to lose you. I could feel his pain and his distress at the mere thought of it, not long ago."

"I believe you will find that he has mellowed on that score, T'Pol," said T'Fel. "I spoke with him and I convinced him that our friendship and our affection would survive all this, and only grow with the passage of time. There need not be a severing, or a sense of loss between us. As for the sexual pleasure between Trip and I, that could be replaced by a Bondmate with a voracious sexual appetite, a desire to please, and a deviant mind. You do understand what I'm saying, T'Pol…"

The look on T'Fel's face was sweet and amusing, given her raunchy instructions, and T'Pol gave a slight smile in return… the woman was suggesting she become Trip's toy in the bedroom, a role for which T'Pol hungered deeply, and one which, due the to Bond's influence, would be a role of which she'd never tire.

"I do understand, T'Fel, and I do not have enough words to thank you for this kindness."

"None are needed, T'Pol. Logic dictates that we try to resolve this situation with the least harm to all involved."

T'Pol sighed, and said, "I have no siblings, T'Fel, but I will love you like a sister from this day on, and if Trip and I do not succeed in creating a proper Bond, and if we sever our Bond eventually, I will still treasure your gesture, and you, T'Fel."

T'Fel caressed T'Pol's cheek with the back of her hand, scandalous as such intimate physical contact with a relative stranger might have seemed to T'Pol just minutes earlier, before their talk, and just then Trip and T'Les entered the room.

* * *

 **5 years later...**

Trip lounged in his overstuffed beanbag chair in the multi-media room, his attention focused on the huge wall sized thin screen monitor which displayed a startling view, coming from Los Angeles. After two more major fleet battles between the Federation and the Romulans, the Romulans had finally seen the light of reason, and seemingly abandoned their quest to subjugate the now thriving and expanded Federation, which had added another eleven species to its roster in the past five years. Now, some argued that the Romulans were warring with the Klingons and needed peace with the Federation, while others argued that the Romulans were surely expanding their empire in other directions, but most Federation members didn't give a damn… that the Romulans wanted a truce was enough.

A treaty was hammered out in relatively short order, for the Romulans wanted nothing from the Federation save the establishment of a Neutral Zone between the Federation and the Star Empire and the lines of that Neutral Zone were established fairly quickly, in a matter of weeks. The only matter still unresolved was the withdrawal of the Imperial Marines and Shrikes still left on Earth and Vulcan, after all this time, after all this bloodshed.

The matter seemed easily handled for a large troop carrier arrived in Earth's orbit, and Vulcan's, at the same time, with each Romulan ship broadcasting orders from the current Consul, T'riett, to assemble at a given coordinate set for withdrawal, and that's when things got sticky. The Humans expected these Imperial soldiers on Earth to surrender their weapons and make their way to Los Angeles as civilians, where they'd board the numerous shuttles waiting to take them up to their ship, but the Romulans would have none of it. Imperial soldiers would walk out with their weapons, or they would remain at their post, running their missions to the last man.

No one in Earth's government had the stomach for any more bloodshed, hell they didn't even know how many Imperials were left on Earth, so after three days of public announcements asking the people of Earth to allow these soldiers to pass unmolested with their weapons, the Imperial soldiers made way for Los Angeles.

It was a surreal sight to Human eyes, to see fully armed and armored Imperial soldiers riding subway cars, trains, and planes, to share space with hard faced, cold eyed, contemptuous Imperial soldiers who looked through the Human filth around them with perfect arrogance... and although there was a great deal of hatred for these soldiers, no one was stupid enough to instigate any trouble with them, given the weapons plainly carried, and the amply proven willingness of Imperial soldiers to rock and roll on a dime, and turn any engagement into a bloodbath in which the Humans inevitably suffered casualties all out of proportion with Romulan losses.

At the end of it all, of some 5,000 Imperial soldiers originally deployed on Earth, only 300 showed up at the final muster… the rest had died performing their duty as they saw it, more than half of them in the last few days when they'd pushed hard regardless of the cost, in order to create chaos on Earth in preparation for the conquest of Earth by the 8th Romulan fleet.

Even now, at the last, more blood was shed, for as they passed through a line of EarthGov's soldiers guarding the Romulan shuttles, an EarthGov Marine who'd lost two brothers to the Romulans, suddenly drew a knife and tried to kill the nearest Romulan soldier passing by his position… in return, his knife hand was immobilized, even as Romulan and Human soldiers raised weapons on each other, and in that disciplined silence which waited only for an order to begin the killing, the Imperial Shrike broke the Human's neck, then dropped him disdainfully to the ground.

"Not good enough," said the Shrike, stomping the Marine's face with steel clad boot, and collapsing the man's face.

An undercurrent of rage went through the Human soldiers, and time seemingly froze... the killing was about to start.

"Lower your weapons!" said the EarthGov general in charge of the Human troops. "Now!"

Reluctantly, the Human soldiers obeyed their orders, even as the general approached the Shrike who'd killed that soldier.

"We'll meet again, shithead," said General Hoskins.

The Shrike looked coldly at Hoskins, spit on the dead man's ruined face, and said, "I long for that day!"

The Shrike waited a moment longer to see if Hoskins was going to push his luck, then grinned at the Human, and walked past him, the rest of the Imperials falling in with the Shrike. With that, the rest of the evacuation was anti-climatic. Even as the Imperial soldiers were lifted off Earth, and Vulcan, a treaty was signed with the Federation, and a truce established between the Star Empire, and the Federation. It was done, this whole nightmare was now over…

* * *

"So how did it go?" said Trip, looking at T'Fel's sweet face: they'd been speaking for the past hour. "The Romulan evacuation."

"It went well enough," said T'Fel, "at least there was no violence."

"Good," said Trip. "Good."

"I can't wait to see you," said T'Fel. "When are you returning to Vulcan?"

"Two weeks from now," said Trip. "You've been keeping an eye on my place?"

"Of course," said T'Fel, for Trip had bought the property right next to his in Ralla province, overlooking the Voroth Sea, as a gift for T'Fel. "That was our agreement. Listen, I have to go now - my parents and sister are coming to spend the next few days here with me, and I have to prep some food for them."

"Sure, T'Fel," said Trip. "See you soon. Love you."

"Love you too," said T'Fel. "Give my love to all."

"Will do," said Trip, and moments later headed for the kitchen to fix himself an iced coffee.

Just then T'Pol walked in the kitchen, looking quite lovely in the stylish Vulcan robes she'd worn to accommodate her pregnancy, for something good had come of Paxton's plans after all, and his attempts to master the process of binary cloning, essentially combining the genetic material of two donors to produce a hybrid child, had come to light after his death… and once T'Pol had seen that material published, she'd approached Phlox with an intriguing challenge, and well, the rest as they say is history, and T'Pol was expecting her first child by Trip, though she and her mate wanted two more children.

"Hey, baby," said Trip, finally taking notice of T'Pol. "You know, even pregnant you still move like a cat. Gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

T'Pol held her index and middle fingers out, extended towards him, and Trip looked at her with an amused look on his face. T'Pol felt her mate's desire for a kiss, but she was screwing with him… he copied her gesture, and they touched fingers, after which T'Pol drew close, and gave Trip his dues, just as T'Les walked into the kitchen.

"Ugh! Must you act on your perverse sexual proclivities in public spaces?" said T'Les.

"We must," said T'Pol.

"All right then," said T'Les, and after grabbing some iced tea from the refrigerator, she headed for the living room, for she was excited to see the latest installment of Animal Planet.

"So where did you guys go?" said Trip.

"Just out to lunch," said T'Pol. "What have you been doing with yourself?"

"Watched the Romulan withdrawal from Earth, then spoke with T'Fel."

"How is she?" said T'Pol, truly interested, for she and T'Fel had become quite close.

"She's well," said Trip. "Sends you her love."

"It will be wonderful to see her again," said T'Pol, for she and Trip spent time on both Earth, and Vulcan, and they'd been on Earth for two months now. "I should change into something more comfortable now."

"Ok," said Trip, "I'll go watch Animal Planet with T'Les."

"I love you," said T'Pol.

"Ok," said Trip, screwing with her for offering the finger pointy thing, instead of a kiss.

"What do you mean, ok?" said T'Pol, her head doing a turn at that, to keep her mate in her line of sight.

"I mean that's great," said Trip, wearing his best poker face.

"I saved your life on Tek'Surron!" said T'Pol, and Trip laughed: she used that line for everything, to get a back rub, a foot massage, a purse, etc… "You owe me!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," said Trip, smiling: he kissed T'Pol. "I love you too."

"Damned right you do," mumbled T'Pol on her way out the kitchen.

Ten minutes later T'Pol found her way to the living room, where Trip and T'Les were discussing the mating habits of African lowland baboons, as they both dug into a bowl of Fiddle-Faddle.

"Fiddle-Faddle, T'Pol?" said Trip, holding out the bowl.

"No, thank you," said T'Pol, and took a seat on the couch.

Trip gave T'Les the bowl, then spun around and made a pillow of T'Pol's thighs, and the Vulcan sighed as she brushed some hair out of Trip's eyes. Trip smiled.

"Not everything you thought it would be, eh?" said Trip.

"What do you mean?" said T'Pol.

"You've got your Bonded mate, you've got a kid on the way," said Trip with a grin, "and now you realize it's not what you really wanted. You're disgruntled. You'd rather be out there, exploring space as the captain of your own ship, right?"

"You are mistaken, my love," said T'Pol, placing her fingers on Trip's lips, lest he interrupt her. "There is no other place I'd rather be."

— the end —


End file.
